Sergundra
by Era Yachi
Summary: It's about Amarant. It's about this funny little relation between a smart eleven year old and our favorite bounty hunter. Not that way, you sickos. Rated for mild language!
1. Acquaintance

Disclaimer: Uh, I don't own FFIX? Eh? I dont? Dang!   
  


Are you ready for this? Did you know that this'll be the first ever, super-long fanfiction that is about Amarant, SERIOUSLY? Right, I am SO in love with him! Well, ehm, not literally. You know what I mean! This is gonna be sad, it's gonna have a teeny (that's ma sister's nickname! *grin*) bit of swearing and a tiny (that's MY nickname! *grin again*) bit of blood. This is AMARANT, people. And Zidane, and Freya, and Dagger, and Quina, and Vivi, and Steiner, and Eiko....yes, but it's about AMARANT. Tee hee! All right, all right....let's get this show on the road, y'all! (actually, I'm not Texian, or whatever. I'm Canadian, hence the 'eh?', eh? You know, we all actually do say 'eh'. It's so cool, eh?  
  
            (Song: I know this place is where I am, no other place is better than....No matter where I know I am, I know, I am , Canadian! Oh! I know, I know I am! I am Can-a-di-an! I know! I know I am! I am Can-a-di-annnnn!)  
  
            I'd sing the rest, but I dunno it, lol.  
  
            Get your tissues/hammers, people. Cause you're gonna cry, and you just might wanna pound in your compy screen. Or maybe I'm being too unmodest? Tell me, tell me! =0)  
  
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**Characters in this chapter:**  
  
Amarant Coral (well, duh)  
Cora (sucha cutie...)  
Amses (cool guy)  
Alexandrian innkeeper  
A bunch of drunk guys huddled in a corner (eh?)  
  
  
  
                                                     ~~~{**Sergundra**}~~~  
                                                       

                                            By: Laura M. Ulian

                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
            Amarant sat on the very edge of the Outer Continent. A warm breeze gently passed him, scattering an assortment of sand and dead leaves along the beach. They swirled, tumbled, and lay flat again, as the wind flew up, and did a neat flip. The bandit's hair moved slightly, and he tilted his head forward to stare wordlessly at the ground he rest on. His arms were folded atop of his knees, and his back rest against an enbankment of yet more sand. His thoughts stirred no less than the derbis was tossed before him. Annoying thoughts, ones that he no longer wanted to tolerate.

  
            Yesterday, he'd been on the Mist Continent, in Alexandria, and standing in the thick crowd while the people applauded all around him. For whatever reason he'd joined in, he felt it had been lost, now. There was no reason to be glad about the runt's return. At least, if he'd been dead, the queen would have lead her people fairly. At least, if he decided to not return, they would not have banished him.

  
            Why? That was the only question he couldn't answer. He simply knew the answer, but couldn't understand it, that was all. Zidane, of all people, should have understood. Even though they did what they could, perhaps out of simple, kind insinct. They certainly didn't believe his side of the story, however. His point of view. Amarant squinted his eyes shut, fighting back the recollection of what really happened.  
  
  
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            The bar door slowly creaked open, cutting through the mow mumbles of the drunks. All five heads around the corner table look up to see a tall, pale-skinned man admit himself into the tavern. Almost at once, their voices grew from mumbles to silence, as Amarant Coral crossed the room to the bar, where the barkeeper stood. Only she seemed nerved about the bandit's entrance, as she took a glass from under the counter. She proceeded to fill it up.  
  
            "That's th' man..." came a raspy voice from the corner. Immediatly, the five men broke out into a murmuring discussion about fighting and monsters, the queen, and the Burmecian Dragon Knight called Freya. Amarant pretended not to hear this. He half-minded picked up his mug of ale and took a short sip, leaning against the bar.  
  
            Cora Olwen stared, awestruck at the tall man, and slowly looked at her guardian, sitting across from her. The cloaked man was silent, but he sighed through his lips, the stench of sour ale filling the air. He didn't appear to notice Amarant enter at all. Instead, he picked up his solid, tall glass of the foul liquid and downed yet another gulp.  
  
            "Amses!" (Am-zees) the eleven-year-old girl whispered fiercly. "Who is that man? Why did everyone go all silent like that?"  
  
            'Amses' chuckled and swirled the ale around the bottom of his mug, half-heartedly, "My little Cora. Aren't you a bit young to be thinking about men?"  
  
            "Don't kid!" said Cora, irrately. "Who is he? He looks really familiar."  
  
            "Ah," croaked Amses. "He's just Amarant. You know, that Amarant Coral guy? He's one of them who returned with the queen that year ago, or two....how many was it?"  
  
            "Amses," said the girl, sternly. She seized his fist and set the mug back down on the table, just as he was about to lift it to his lips again. "You're getting drunk. And I promise this time that I'll tell on you, if you don't stop."  
  
            The man grunted, and stared at the girl for a moment, "You're a teenager already."  
  
            Cora ignored him, "I remember seeing him in the crowd today.....He must be a friend of Mr. Zidane. I really want to meet him, y'know. Mother said that-"  
  
            "-Zidane is a Terra citizen, from another world, and that someday he will be king of Alexandria?" Amses supposed sarcastically, and grinned from beneath his hood.  
  
            Cora pouted, "All right so maybe I've said it a few times. You don't have to rub it in."  
  
            Amses laughed, "Well, it's obvious you have a crush on the guy. You should really go for it, Cora. He's only five years older than you, and just hangin' in the queen's face like a mosquito."  
  
            The girl sighed, "You know you'd be fired before you could apologize, if my mother ever heard you say that."  
  
            "Of course," said Amses. "If she ever did."  
  
            Cora playfuly shoved him. He shrugged innocently.  
  
            "But really...." she said, thoughtfully, and returning her glance to the tall man named Amarant. "I wonder if he's as tough as he looks. He hangs around in a bar, so I guess that kind of proves he's at least a little tough....right?"  
  
            The grizzled man snorted and shook his head, "Naw. You should never judge someone       just by where they hang about, Cora. You never know....he could be a kitten beneath all that fluff."  
  
            Cora raised an eyebrow, "Fluff? I don't see any fluff."  
  
            Amses laughed again, "It means a tough exterior, little lady." Clearing his throat, he took out his old-fashioned pipe, and lit it with the candle centered at the table. Placing the candle back down, he took a delighted puff, and leaned forward in his chair. "To me, it seems he's got something in his eye. Not a tear mind, a glimmer of a dark secret. And not dark, as in evil. Dark, as in.....hidden, deep inside."  
  
            The eleven-year-old sighed, "You always seem to have a good sense to judge people," she said, gloomily. "Why can't I ever do that?"  
  
            "Heh, it runs in the family, Cora. I'm not related to ye," he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. "It's not that hard. For instance, look at the drink he's drinkin', Cora. Hard-core liquor, the strongest the lady sells. Big man, big drink. But he's barely touching it, see."  
  
            Cora nodded absently, and suddenly, an idea struck her, "I know! I'm going to go talk to him! Maybe he'll fight me, then I'll know whether he's tough or not!"  
  
            "Cora," came her guardian's warning voice. "If you fought him, you'd kill him. Now, I've been letting you do pretty much what you've wanted to do for the past five years I've known ye, but this I cannot allow, little miss. I remember when you were a little child, and you used to play with sparks between yer fingertips. But yer only eleven. You can't control that kind of power."  
  
            "Amses," urged the girl, turning herself completely aorund in her chair. "I don't have to use my 'power' to fight him. I can fight him with my glaive, you'll see..." Her voice began to grow whiney.  
  
            The cloaked man coughed, and thumped the tabletop with his hand, impatiently, "You can't, Cora. Now turn around, and sit like a lady."  
  
            Cora gritted her teeth, and sighed as heavily as she could manage. But she wasn't going to give up that easily. She began to get up from her seat, "I'll only be a minute, I promise...."  
  
            Suddenly, she felt a icy hand seise her wrist. Gasping, she spun around to look down at her guardian, who was now leaning noticably across the table, and gripping her arm, "Cora, you know he might be dangerous," he said, lifting his eyes to glare tenaciously into her face. "I can't stop you, little missy -- you're too much like your mother." He said it, almost sorrowfully. "But I am warning you one last time -- He doesn't appear to enjoy being bothered."  
  
            Slowly, he relaxed his grasp, and sat back in his chair, still staring at her impetuously. It was strange....she never knew he cared about protecting her that much. Flashing him a brief smile that could only express what she was thinking, she tucked in her chair, and carefully approached the bar.  
  
            Amarant Coral was still leaning over the counter, with his back to her. His right hand encircled the mug that held his brew, while his left rest almost grippingly atop his right wrist. His head was pointed downwards, the mass of flaming-red hair covering almost every part of his eyes from her view. He didn't appear to notice her.  
  
            Cora leaned to the side to peer curiously into his face, but strangely, he tugged his head to the right, ensuring she could not. Swallowing her nervousness, the eleven-year-old girl stammered, "H-hello."  
  
            Torpidly, and every so slightly, Amarant turned his face to stare at her. Even now, as she looked up at his looming form, she could not see any trace of his eyes beneath the tumble of red locks. What had Amses meant, when he said that there was a 'glimmer in his eye'? Two, skulking moment crawled by, and he stil continued tol gazed at her, almost as if he were expecting something.  
  
            An angry, sort of curious feeling bubbled in the back of her mind, "You're supposed to say 'hello' to someone when they greet you."  
  
            " Really," came the low, gruff reply. He looked back down at the countertop. "Hello."  
  
            Again, the girl swallowed. What did she say next??? "Are you...drunk? Or just glum?"  
  
            Oops, she thought. Perhaps that's not the best thing to say.  
  
            To her immediate surprise, the bandit did not growl at her, or throw the glass mug against the wall or anything drastic like that. He grunted half-heartedly, and turned his glass of brew round in one hand, almost pallingly. Another second or so passed, before he muttered, "Neither."  
  
            "Oh," she said, in a small voice.  
  
            Again, to her surprise, Amarant set the glass down on the bar with a 'thunk', "Your reason for coming over her was....." he pressed.  
  
            Abruptly, Cora's fear vanished. She loved to challenge people, "Oh, to challenge you to a fight."  
  
            That certainly nabbed his attention. Even still, he did not make any sudden movements. He merely chcukled beneath his breath, and turned his head to glance at her again, "Really," he repeated. "And how do you intend on doing that?"  
  
            "Well," she quipped, corssing her arms. "You'd see if you accepted my challenge."  
  
            "Hmm," was his reply. "Sorry. I don't fight brats."  
  
            "Bra-" she began, taking an offensive step backwars. All right -- it was official. She was angry. "Listen! I'm NOT a brat, I'm a fellow warrior, like you! I'm sure if you'd just accept my challenge, you'd be so sorry, your hair would hurt!"  
  
            "Really," he repeated, for yet a third time.  
  
            This time, she decided to answer him, "Really."  
  
            Unfourtunately, she had a long way to go before she could even scratch his stubborn  exterior. Amarant took a small sip form his mug, and said nothing for the next ten, fifteen seconds. Then, "Sorry. I lost interest in flaunting my power when I teamed up with the monkey-king-to-be."  
  
            Cora's eyes widened, "You mean.... Sir Zidane?" she nearly gasped.  
  
            "Do you see any other monkeys strutting around town?"  
  
            "N....no..." she practically breathed. "But I have some high respect for Mr. Zidane. You'd better take that back!"  
              
            Once more, he side-glanced at her, his gaze lingering for a second more this time, "How old are you?"  
  
            She smirked, "Eleven and a half. Twelve, come winter."  
  
            He smirked right back, "You enjoy challenging 'warriors' more than twice your age?"  
  
            "No," came her blunt reply. "But I do enjoy beating them, and making them cry."  
  
            "Sharp tongue she has, doesn't she?" said a rough voice, and a hooded figure suddenly appeared, placing his hands on the girl's shoulders.  
              
            Amarant glared at him, "You're her father?"  
  
            Amses grinned, "Hardly. I am her guardian, Amarant Coral."  
  
            This seemed to surprise him, at least a little, "You.....know my name."  
  
            Now it was Cora's turn to be surprised, "I thought-"  
   
            "I have this under control, Cora," said Amses, a little more forcefully than usual. "Keep your tongue this time."  
  
            Amarant, to yet an even greater shock, stood up, and turned to face the cloaked Amses. He dwarfed the man, almost twice in height, "You want something from me?"  
  
            The hooded guardian took his pipe form his teeth and smiled innocently, "Only a question or two, if you don't mind."  
  
            Slowly, the tall, flame-haired man turned his eyes from Cora, to Amses, and then back to Cora. Resting his eyes on her, finally, he spoke gruffly to the cloaked man, "Fine. Ask quickly -- Monkey-boy wants me at the castle. We wouldn't want him waiting, would we....Cora?"  
  
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            (*sniff* Waaaaah! I'm so happy! My "masterpiece" is SO underway! But, I mean, I gotta cut it here, or it's get too long to be a chapter and all....yeah. Tell me what you think! Please! I PROMISE PROMISE PROMISE that it'll get even better! All this small-talk is just the beginning! Please R&R! =)=) =0)=0)=0)

(Riiiiight. Well, I deicded to make it look better! =) What you think?)


	2. Accused

            **Disclaimer**: Lalalalalala...Oh...what? Huh? Do I own Final Fantasy 9? Um, no Squaresoft does. Thanks. Bye.....lalalalala....  
  
            (I am outta time! Sorry I can't write a proper introduction! eep....Well, enjoy! My second chapta....*sniff* It's so wonderful...no, I'm not an egosist. ehehehe....well, um, yeah, enjoy!)  
  
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                                                                        ~~{**Sergundra**}~~

                                                                        By: Laura M. Ulian

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            "Amses, you smell!" Cora protested at her captor, and squirmed out of the pressure he was putting on her shoulders. "And would you _please_ tell me what's going on? You said-"  
  
            "Cora..." the cloaked man sighed. "Please, I'm asking you nicely this time....do not speak if you have a question. Not now, for the fact. The matter is too important."  
  
            Amarant seemed untoleratant of this, "Who are you?" he growled, almost beneathe his breath.  
  
            Again, Amses sighed, but looking up, Cora could still see the signs of a familiar grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, "My name is Amses Secoran, and this is Cora. I'm her guardian." Carefully, he ungripped his hands from the girl's shoulders, trusting that she knew how to be quiet by now.  
  
            The flame-haired bandit slowly turned his gaze to look at the huddled group of drunks, whom by now, were all staring at the trio. As soon as they saw that Amarant was watching them, they noisly leapt from their chairs, and nearly scrambled over each other to file out of the pub door. The bar was now empty, save Cora and the two men.  
  
            "I thought you had questions....Amses," said Amarant, folding his arms almost hostily.  
   
            "Of course," said Amses, wrining his hands beneth his long sleeves. "I cannot begin to describe how unusual this is for me, ehehe..." He chuckled, and nearly began to cough. Clearing his throat, he shook his head, "Never mind that....I need to know only two tings about you. I will understand if you do not know the answers."  
  
            Amarant said nothing, typically.   
  
            "Amarant...Coral, tell me. Did you know your mother?" said Amses, almost blurting out the question.  
  
            They could not see, of course, Amarant's eyes widen beneath their cover. After a brief silence, the tall bandit growled, "Of course not. Who are you to ask, stranger?" Cora cringed, and hid behind Amses cloak at Amarant's vicious tone.  
  
            "No one you know, Amarant," said Amses, casting his eyes down for a moment. "I am only an old man, that once heard of your mother and father. It is sad, that I know more about them, and perhaps even you than you know yourself."  
  
            Amarant was clearly seething with both anger and....humiliation. "Don't assume an answer from one statistic," he spat.  
  
            "Ah," said the cloaked man. "So you were lying."  
  
            "It's what I do," came the bandit's staunt reply.  
  
            "Amses..." began Cora, her mouth opening to gape. When he did not silence her, she went on, "How...you never told me that you knew him personally!"  
  
            The man chuckled, "You misunderstand, little miss. This is my first time meeting anyone of the Coral family."  
  
            "Glad to know you're not some long-lost, nosy relative," said Amarant. But he looked away, and Cora swore she could feel the disappointment radiating from his very nerves.  
  
            "So you did know your mother," was Amses assumption.  
  
            "A little. Now get off my back, if that's what you needed to know," said Amarant, flatly. Without so much as a farewell, he uncrossed his arms, and brushed past both the cloaked man and the girl hiding behind the folds of his robes.  
  
            "It isn't," said Amses, a little louder than usual. His face broke out into a smile, when the bandit turned to face him again. "You knew your mother then. You know her name, you know her age, you know that she is dead, and...."  
  
            "I know she is not my real mother," said Amarant testily. He took a menacing step forward. "I don't understand how any of this has to do with you."  
  
            "It doesn't," replied Amses. "Not in the least, Coral. I know that this talk of family doesn't suit you, but I am warning you, before you go out that door, to remain. Just one minute outside might change your future, the way people look at you, the way your friends look at you, and most importantly, the way you look at yourself. Trust me."  
  
            Amarant sneered his disapproval, "I don't trust strangers I don't know." And he left the pub, half-slamming the door behind him.  
  
            He was boiling inside -- the anger pumped through his veins like adreneline. The warm, afternoon air met his face like a rush of hot water, drenching him even further with rage. There was no reason for a complete stranger, a man whom claimed he knew his mother -- a topic he detested discussing -- to ask him such questions. Amarant ignored Cora's shout that emitted through the thick wood of the tavern door, and began to walk the street in front of him. He'd head for the castle, where all he had to put up with was the swarming crowd, and the irritating, reluctant voice of Steiner when he let him inside under orders.  
  
            Freya had left. At least he wouldn't have to hear her useless advice, and her constant bickering. Eiko and her new 'parents' still hung around, perhaps to stay for the royal dinner that they'd generously -- yet pointlessly -- invited him to. Vivi was living in Alexandria, he'd heard, but he was probably giving a nice little tour of the castle to his children at the moment. Quina -- s/he had a nice cooking job at the castle -- wouldn't have to hear from him/her. He'd only have to look out for Zidane, and not get caught up with him believing that he was visiting for friendly purposes.  
  
            Those were his intentions, as he pushed his way through the unusually-thick crowd, attempting to reach the sqaure at least. Oh, how he hated crowds. But until he reached the castle, he'd have to put up with being swamped in people who he literally towered over. Typically, it was a way of telling himself to bite the bullet -- you can't be a loner all the time. Scowling, Amarant didn't care nor stop to apologize to anyone he might have jostled. This was how he managed to evade any more converstations with strangers, until he heard a vague whisper from someone along the side of the street. Considering the bandit was being shoved to the side anyway, it was rather simple to catch the voice over the hoard of noise.  
  
            It was a man in black, whom had addressed his name. Strangely, he wore a cloak, and he was hooded, not unlike the Amses character he'd encountered just minutes ago. But this man was taller, thinner, and by the lack of age lines around the character's mouth (Amses had plenty), he was quite young. But before Amarant could say a word on anything, the cloaked person had swiftly leapt to the side, and ducked into a brightly-lit alley. Considering the lightness of this alley, Amarant didn't pause to consider it's dangers. He charged straight into it, the infuriating feeling he'd already been dealing with growing with an uncontrollable fury. He didn't have time to deal with these annoying people. But perhaps it was a possible employer -- someone he could get a job from. A job that he was only good at.  
  
            If only he'd thought better then.  
  
            It was a thin, but long alley. Oddly enough, it was deserted. Even more oddly, the cloaked stranger was nowhere to be seen. On his second glance around, Amarant finally spotted the man's only possible hiding place -- an indent on the left-hand side of the alley. The building had obviously been built to house two different families. The red-haired bandit thought later on, about how irrationally he'd acted. He should have scented the trouble brewing before leaping head-first into it.  
  
            He was cautious, carefully approaching the corner. Impulsively, he drew his weapons over his fists -- his old Cat's Claws. They were standard, good fighting equipment. He'd thrown the others away, save his Rune Claw, which now lay forgotten somewhere in the depths of Memoria. But now, he never thought, even once, let alone twice, as he rounded the corner. He was too busy preparing himself for an attack -- not what he came to suddenly face.  
  
            There were two men now. They both held weapons in their hands -- meagre knives. One faced him, a simple two or three feet away, and the other was further back in the opposite corner. Before the nearest leapt, before he lifted his dagger to boldly lunge at the bandit, Amarant glimpsed something on the ground that drew fear into his heart. For once.  
  
            It was a girl. Eyes closed, not breathing. A little girl. Dead.  
  
            If it had not been for the attacker's angry cry, Amarant's instincts wold have failed him. But they worked now, and he threw his left fist forward on intuition. It met the cloaked man's metal blade with a clash, and immediatly tore it from his grasp. The man, looking bewildered, only had had time to gasp in surprise before he felt the steel of Amarant's left claw, when it pierced his chest. His face went pale, and his arms limp.  
  
            Amarant had no trouble or regret in killing a man he knew was a murderer. The man slid from his claws and into a heap on the ground. It was only then, when Amarant looked down on the dead attacker with satisfcation, that he realized he was forgetting something important. He lifted his head. Yes, the other cloaked character, the one with a smooth face, and young smile. Oh, the smile was there now -- only it was curled, and evil. Wickedly humourless. He had not attacked, even when his friend had thrown his life into peril. He merely stood. He merely stared, it seemed. If his eyes had been visible, Amarant knew that they would have been gleaming with triumph.   
  
            The stranger spoke briefly, with a husky voice, "Class A stupidity....It was all we ever could expect from you, Coral."  
  
            The shouts of two woman -- by their tones, Alexandrian guards -- startled Amarant from his confused daze. At the exact instant, the same thought struck both minds. But the cloaked man was quicker, as Amarant dove to trap him. The stranger evaded Amarant's lunge, and flew like wind itself down the alley, screaming at the top of his lungs for all to hear, "Help! Help meeeeee! Please, help!"  
  
            Amarant did not chase after him. He could do as he wished. He could be a coward, and run to Alexandrian military for assistance, but Amarant knew that they were on his side anyway. Instead, with a sort of heavy feeling inside of his chest, the bandit looked down, at the girl sprawled in the corner. He would never forget that moment of horror -- when he finally understood how he'd been tricked. Deceived.  
  
            Framed.  
  
            The little girl was someone he didn't know. He'd been horrified at first, thinking it might have been Cora. But it was not. It was a younger girl, perhaps five or so. But when his eyes landed squarely on her fatal wound, bored in her stomach, the blood in his veins ran cold. Her cause of death were three, neat punctures that Amarant realized were identical to the one planted on the dead man's chest at his feet. There was blood on his claws. And no one would understand who's.  
  
            "You there! Don't run! We have you cornered!"  
  
            Amarant turned to face the torments he knew would follow. Four Alexandrians and two regular citizens stood behind him, appearing half-winded from their rush to catch the "murderer". One of the citizens, a woman around the age of thirty, or thirty-five dropped to her knees. A moan of disbelief rose from her throat. She had spotted the dead girl.  
  
            The other citizen, a man, whom was now classified at the dead child's father, also dropped to his knees, and took his wife's head in his arms. Tears running down his own cheeks, he attempted to soothe hers. But her groans and wails soon began to fill the entire alley with a downcast sorrow. No one wept for the partner of the girl's real killer.  
  
            The Alexandrian guards, obviously trained for this kind of pain, made no hesitation to dive on the tall, red-haired bandit. Two of them seized each arm, and dragged him away from the body of the lifeless child. And Amarant made no such attempt to resist them, which clearly, but secretly surprised them. As they half-forced him to round the building's corner, Amarant could see the forms of three more Alexandrian guards racing down the alleyway towards him. One seized his arm while the other two shoved and prodded at him. The one that had taken his arm, began to talk in a disgusted tone, "You must think you're brilliant, you worthless Yan..." she hissed. "I know who you are. Killing, murdering scum, you're a piece of trash, you know that? Just wait until we take this to the Queen....She'll deal with you, you child-murdering filth!"  
  
            And so it went like that. People, although they still stuck togehter in hoards, like bees scavanging for nectar, hastily moved aside to let the seven guards escort Amarant along the streets. The bandit was beginning to absorb this with a touch of bewilderment. And he was beginning to get annyoed with the one guard's constant bickering. However, speaking now would only make things worse. Strugglilng would bring terrible results. And so, he bore it.  
  
            He did not have to suffer the long boat-ride across the channel. It was obvious that the guards were intending to escort him to the castle, and take him to Dagger, but they found very soon tha tis was unnecsessary. The very moment they reached the end of the square, the channel boat had just finished touch the shore, and it was carrying two very important passengers. Dagger and Zidane both stepped out onto the cobblestone. Neither had seemed to spot Amarant yet, as they laughed voer some joke Zidane must have cracked. It was only the third time Amarant had seen Zidane since he'd returned this very day, and the second time he'd speak to him. Perhaps the last.  
  
            "Your Majesty, and most gracious guest and friend of our Queen," said one of the the guards behind Amarant's back. He heard them kneel on the ground before Dagger. "We humbly apologize for spoiling your day in town so soon, but this is an urgent matter."  
  
            Amarant swore he would never forget the look Zidane gave him, when they each looked up. Dagger looked confused. Zidane looked annoyed.  
  
            He must have thought it a joke, for the first thing he said was, "Well, Amarant, I see you've been keeping yourself busy."  
  
            The guard that had spoken choked in surprise, "You KNOW this scoundrel? You are acquianted with this piece of scum???"  
  
            Zidane blinked in surprise, "Um....yes. What in Gaia's name did he do??"  
  
            "Amarant...." Dagger's voice was soft, and as confused as before. "This...I apologize," she said, acting as couteous as she could manage. "But there must be some kind of a mistake. This is Amarant. He is...our friend."  
  
            Amarant hung his head at those words. They were making it worse. Why should he care? It was evident -- he was going to be hanged as a murderer. What made it even more horrible was the fact that not only was it humiliating, but it would be Dagger and Zidane to sentence him.  
  
            No, they had to believe him. No matter what brats they were -- no matter how incompitent they were, they had to believe him. They had declared him "part of the team". However foolish it was, it made sense to him. Would they go back on their word now?  
  
            "This is no mistake. I apologize if this strikes you as a surprise, your highness, but....this man was found, in an alley. He'd killed a young girl, and another man, in cold blood. There is the blood on his weapons. It is true." The Alexandrian guard almost whispered.   
  
  
            Amarant flinched. There was no worse way to put it other than that. Did they have to be so vague?  
  
            Dagger's face grew pale, and she tried to speak. But she uttered nothing, as the soundless words poured form her mouth. Her confusion had hit it's peak. On the other hand, Zidane wasn't so modest.  
  
            "Amarant? A murder? A little girl?" his three questions stung Amarant, one by one. "Now I'm confused. You have to have the wrong man, babe. Sorry."  
  
            The guard, however, didn't seem to like Zidane very much, "I am insisting this very much, Sir Zidane. I am the one that must apologize, again. The marks on both bodies resembled the puncture marks that are made by these claws," She gestured disgustedly towards Amaran'ts Cat's Claws, which were at the moment, completely useless.  
  
            "Whoa," said Zidane, shaking his head. "Back up....where's the evidence of this?"  
  
            The guard scowled, "He was found with the bodies, sir. His claws are bloodied. The victims -- his victims have punctures fit for his choice of a weapon. And we have a witness, that claims he saw it all."  
  
            Amarant stiffened. The cloaked man.  
  
            Slowly, Zidane turned his accusing gaze to Amarant. The bandit did not guiltily lower his head, or mumble some confession. He did not look at the ground, or say anything at all. Amarant was as silent as his spectators. But he stared. He stared directly into the genome's face, quite expressionlessly. Zidane's face was just as blank, as he spoke next. "Amarant. You didn't."  
  
            "The evidence points to it, and a real witness is golden proof," spat the same guard. She huffed, "And it calls for drastic action. If ther majesty does not mind, I might make a sujestion. An execution might be in order, if we-"  
   
            "Hold it." Zidane's voice was placid. His stare was cold, almost as if he continued to struggle with believing Amarant would do such a thing. "I know that I'm not one to speak-"  
  
            "So let me," said Amarant, his deep tone cutting off Zidane's words. He felt his captors flinch. After all, it was the first time he'd spoken since being caught. "I thought you were a fool, Zidane. Until Freya slapped some sense into me, that is. I stopped hating you for...caring so much all the time. But now I'm beginning to think that the fool I saw in you is beginning to show, if you really believe-"  
  
            "Shut up!" snapped the tempermental guard, and she made a bold move. She kneed him in the back. As much as the metal hurt as it cut into his skin, Amarant didn't bother to acknowledge she was there. But he was silent, again.  
  
            "Don't do that again," said Dagger, ultimately surprising them all. Besides Amarant. "Don't hit him. If it weren't for him -- for any of the team, Gaia might not even exist right now."  
  
            The guard didn't look like she quite believed this, but she obeyed, nonetheless. "The law stands for everyone, which includes him, your majesty. It even includes you-"  
  
            "As it did my mother and father. And yet none dared to stop her in her dream of destruction," came the queen's cold reply. "Please, that is enough."  
  
            "Amarant...." Zidane looked helplessly lost, as he glanced from Dagger, to the bandit, to the queen again. "Of all days...today had to be it. This was....it was supposed to be a happy day, Dagger."  
  
            "It still can be, Sir Zidane," said the guard, trying to sound cheerful about the matter. "Just allow me to order his execution, and all this will-"  
  
            "Even if he is the murderer of a child," said Dagger, clearly getting fed up with the guard's behaviour. "He is still our friend. I will not allow him to die, no matter the cost."  
  
            "Zidane, you cannot possibly believe that I would do something so stupid!" Amarant spat, angrily tearing his left arm away from the guards' grasps. They immediately seized him again, and pulled him back a few feet. "You know me better than that," he continued, his tone completely flat.  
  
            "So I thought," said Zidane. "But I also know that you live for killing. Before you met us, that was all you lived for, wasn't it? Perhaps you thought that was over now."  
  
            "Zidane..." Dagger started, but she stopped, looking very unsure herself.  
  
            The genome shook his head, "No. I don't want him to die. I made the mistake of welcoming him as part of the team. But after this....killing a litle girl, and another human being on top of that...."  
  
            "Zidane, you can't mean it..." said Dagger. Good old Dagger -- always trying to believe something even if it sounded wrong.  
  
            "It's your call, Dagger," said Zidane, glaring coldly at the tall bandit. "But you'd better do something. Just leave me out of it. I might make it worse."  
  
            "......But, Zidane-" the queen began again, and gave up. Torpidly, she lifted her eyes to gaze at Amarant. "Amarant....I don't know what to believe. To look at you, people would automatically assume the wrong thing. Even if you didn't kill her, or the other man....Someone has to be punished. And they think it's you. I wouldn't be a very supportive queen, if I spoke against their descision, so....please, understood."  
  
            Amarant understood. He understood very clearly, but he still did not think that what he'd been tricked for was right, "It was the witness, if anyone wants to know that truth. That's all I'll say. A clever man, he seems to be. Almost as clever as you, Zidane."  
  
            Zidane, who had his back turned on the bandit, spun on him, "I can't speak to someone I can't even trust anymore..." he said. "I'm sorry, Amarant. But this is the way it is...."  
  
            "What will we do with him?" the guard growled abruptly.  
  
            Dagger lowered her eyes, "I can't order an execution. Being queen, I will have to watch, even if I will not to...I won't bear to see him die. So..."  
  
            "I apologize," said another guard, gripping Amarant's right arm. "But I have other duties to attend to, as well. If this cannot be decided, you majesty-"  
  
            "No," said the queen, and she shook her head, softly. "I've decided. Amarant, I have no other choice...please forgive me." Her voice cracked slightly. "At dawn, he will no longer be allowed to set foot inside of Alexandrian lands again. He will either be banished to another continent, or put under watch by Regent Cid. But he is banished, with much regret. And that is the way it must be."  
  
  
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            (WAHHHH! Ok, I'm just kidding. Why? Why can't I cry when I read my own writing? Is it because I know what's going to happen? *sniff* Why? Ahhhhh....well, I hope you like it, peeps. I'll write more just for the heck of it! *grin* Please R&R. Comments? Critics? Tel me! lol)


	3. Admiration

**Disclaimer: **I don't. I wish I did. I don't own Final Fantasy IX! *sniff* Squaresoft does.  
  
             *sheepish grin* Ehehee....yeah, see, allow me to explain why it took me so long to post this chapter. Er, um....*hacking cough* I'm sick. Yeah, quite sick in fact. I've been missin' a lot of school. (Can we say, 'three days????') And I certainly aint been on the computee to y'know, write and stuff. Yeah, sorrrrrryyyy Lizzie! (so far, you're my most loyal reader to this fic!) And this fanfic is supposed to be my masterpiece! Grrrrr....Anyway. Let's just....yeah. Enjoy!  
  
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                                                            ~~{**Sergundra**}~~

                                                            By: Laura M. Ulian

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             "Banished?" Cora squeaked, leaping form the edge of her bed in a frightened panic. "Gone? You mean, actaully thrown out of Alexandria? For good?"  
  
             "Thrown out, banished, evicted," said the yawning Amses, flopping himself heavily into the room's single armchair. "Exiled, deported, ejected, expelled....Pick one. He's gone, and that's good."  
  
            "It is not!" cried the girl, dropping the pillow she'd been holding. "Why? Why has he been exiled? What crime did he commit?"  
  
             "Murder," said the old man, simply. "He denied, it of course. He's a typical scoundrel, Cora. All Coral's were, and they always will be."  
  
            "But WHERE?" insisted Cora, exasperated. "How can they prove it?"  
  
            Amses gently lifted his hood from his face, revealing his tussled grey hair, untrimmed  mustache, bushy eyebrows and quite chubby cheeks. He peered at her carefully from underneath his bunched brow, and slowly a smile seeped onto his face, "Cora, you're very young. Even if I told you-"  
  
            "Tell me!"  
  
            Amses shook his head, leaning back into his chair again, "An alleyway," he said softly. "With a dead girl younger than you are, and another man clutching a dagger. It's a small weapon, Cora, so many believe it was a source of self-defence -- not assault."  
  
            "But-" said Cora, sitting gently back down on the edge of her bed, turning rather pale. "How....What if it had been the other man who killed her...? I mean, the girl, I....mean. Amarant cold have been-"  
  
            "The girl had been murdered by someone whom uses claws as their weapon," said Amses, shrugging of her words. "Amarant doesn't fight without them, apparently."  
  
             "There's no evidence supporting that he wasn't the killer, Cora," he continued, voice almost sympathetic. "He's a lucky rascal to have not faced trial. The verdict would undoubtedly have been death by hanging, little miss. He's been banished, on a lighter note. Of course, it hasn't gone over with the city very well, but...."  
  
            "He could have-" she began.  
  
            Amses held up an exahausted hand to silence her, "And," he went on. "As far as I could hear, there was also some kind of a witness involved. He swore on his Alexandrian honour that he saw Amarant kill them both, in cold blood."  
  
             "Hmph," Cora folded her arms, her colour slowing returning. "It's very unfair....I bet you anything that I own or value, that it was the witness. Amarant doesn't....he wouldn't...."  
  
             "Somehow, little miss," chuckled her guardian. "You're convincing me with your little attitude.              However, even if it wasn't Amarant, there is nothing we can do about it. I suggest that you turn in, before I have the mind to mail your mother of your recent behaviour. I hear Mognet's a healthy source of-"  
  
            "You wouldn't," snapped the girl, and slid off the edge of her bed. She knew her friend, "You can't trick me, Amses. I know you too well. In fact....can I ask you one more question?"  
  
            "If it will put you to bed," said Amses, rising out of his chair.  
  
            "Not likely," said Cora, and she went on, anyway. "Where is he now? Did they take him away already?"  
  
            "Of course not," replied her guardian. "All sentences are carried out at dawn, subsequently. Including exiles."  
  
             "Then....?" pressed the girl.  
  
            Amses thought for a minute, and then sighed. "They are keeping him, I believe....unless, I heard incorrectly....in the ninth cell on the right corridor in the -- Oh, Cora, no.....get back here."  
  
            Almost impulsively, he stepped forward to seize the girl's hood in his left hand, before she could reach the room's doorway. "This is our vacation. We're supposed to have fun here -- that means absolutely no running headlong into trouble. Now, what was it you mother said, hmmm? Oh, right. I remember now. It was something like.... 'Cora, so help you, if I am forced to bail you out of one more prison. Just one more time, and I'M FINDING YOU A NEW GUARDIAN!'"  
  
             "Amses," sighed Cora, and whirled to face him. "It wasn't like that. She said, 'Cora, please stay out of trouble this time. If worse comes to worse, I may have to substitute Amses for a more stricter tutor'."  
  
            "No matter how it was worded," said Amses, loosening his grip. "It means the same thing."  
  
            "Not quite," said Cora, backing away a pace or two. "And I won't get into trouble this time. I promise. After all, visiting hours are over in....say, an hour or so. What harm could be done in one hour?"  
  
             "Plently, knowing you," growled her dubious guardian.  
  
            "Well, you obviously don't know me that well," retorted the girl, and quickly made for the door. When Amses didn't follow, she turned around to face him once more. "Thanks, Amses. Just trust me this time! I won't don anything bad, I promise promise promise!"  
  
            When she was gone, Amses sat back in his chair. After several minutes, he sighed, and unpocketed his pipe. As he was lighting it up for the third time that night, he mumbled through his pursed lips, "A gil for every time I've hear that, and I'd be a rich man."  
  
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            He'd never been inside of the Alexandrian prison before, excluding the times he'd travelled through Gargant Roo. Amarant disliked new places, when he knew it meant he'd be treated less than the rats they laid traps for. Honestly, however he'd ever admit it, he didn't fancy the idea of watching the castle's rodent pests being favored like kings compared to himself.  
  
            Three guards had been added to Amarants pleasant handleful of pecimistics already. His escort growled under their breaths, whispering back and forth to each other about things like death, punishment, and what they would have done in their queen's position. Amarant, being THE Flaming Amarant, truly couldn't help but overhear every word.   
  
            "This one's a manipulater...." hissed the gaurd whom had complained about her duties beore. "Just look at this! He's gotten himself a load off of the punishment he deserves, I'd say...."  
  
            "Of course he has!" snapped the Alexandrian, whom earlier had done the most talking. "If I were Her Majesty, I would never had ordered an exectuion! I would have ordered a lifetime of torture, that's what I'd of done. Or several years worth in the least!"  
  
            "Well," said a quieter, and more sensible (according to Amarant) guard on his right. "I would have done the same....that is, if I'd been sure about his crime. I mean, don't get me wrong....I'm not saying that's he's innocent, but I'd at least be positive he's guilty before thrwing him in chains or anything."  
              
"Hmmph," said a fourth guard, a male this time and one of the newcomers. "I don't care if I wasn't there. But there'll be no chains today, fourtunately. Just a cell, and it's be for one night. The least, and I literally mean least we can do for him is skip serving his meals, for the time he does spend...."  
  
            "Skip his meals?" growled the bossy, mean guard whom Amarant had long ago decided to take a seriously disliking to. "Why, if I didn't honour my pride as an Alexandrian lieutenant....I'd be out 'ere tannin his hide until mornin! I'd make him pay in blood for what he's done to little Myra...."  
  
            "You know her?" inquired one of the guards whom had been silent until now.  
  
The other guard was silent for several moments, and Amarant coudl feel her slack her pacea little. ".....My niece," she explained sombrely.  
  
            "Oh..." whispered the quiet guard. "I suppose that explains why you're so mad....I thought, you know, you were being just....mean."  
  
            At that moment, Amarant chose to ignore their talk. In the first place, he wasn't supposed to hear their conversation. And the talk of death, and angry family members simply brought a more heated rage to his mind. At the moment, he was ready to rip the throat out of the cloaked man whom had framed him. And the moment he had the chance to, the bandit knew he wouldn't hesitate to do so. It wasn't simply for his revenge for being accused so falsely....all of the rumors, and the talk about this dead girl was getting inside of his normally placid feelings. Fairness was something he looked up to. Whatever had happened, it was certainly far from fair.  
  
            He was silent, until his group of 'hardy' escorts had forced him into a halt and untied his hands. Through the flickering light of a nearby torch, Amarant could see the cell that they had been talking about. It was, to be frank, very small. And to someone of his size, it was downright puny. Had Amarant been an inch taller, his hair would have brushed the stone ceiling, and the bandit could not walk more than a pace and a half across it lengthwise. Not realizing it, he swore harshly beneath his breath.  
  
            The guards, on the other hand, were nearly as keen to their senses as Amarant, "Shut up, worm!" spat the bossy guard, the 'aunt' to 'little Myra'. "Just feel lucky I'm not your escort for tomorrow! If only I....if I were to be on that damn airship with you, I'd set it afire, burn it to the ground! I wouldn't care who dies, so long as you die with them! And if I lived, I'd find you, and make sure you're-"  
  
            "Velra! Velra, calm down!" cried the guard to 'Velra's' left. She grabbed the woman's hand as it went for her sheated sword. Velra was now breathing exhasperatedly, and glaring killer daggers towards Amarant. "Calm down..." said the other guard, softer this time. "Don't sink to his level....Remember. You're Lieutenant Velra....you have a husband and a child. You work for the queen, honorably.....don't throw that away for him."  
  
            "It!" sapt Velra. "I'll do nothing for the sort. It's not worth it, no matter what it's done to me....to Myra. I'll kill him. I'll hunt him down, instead...."  
  
            "You think that," said Amarant, his tone unbreaking. "Before you leave, allow me to wish you good fortune. I only hope that my 'crime' will be rectified by then."  
  
             "There's nothing to correct about it!" growled another guard, shoving the bandit with an unexpected amount of force. Amarant half-stumbled into the cell's open door. He didn't bother to turn around for her next words, "I pity Her Majesty....for ever knowing, and actually trusting someone like you....We can only understand why she's done this for you. Velra, I envy you."  
  
            Velra ignored the guard's words, and spat on the ground before the cell, before turning and storming away in a clatter of metal. Slowly, as a group, the last of the Alexandrians slowly shook their heads, and left Amarant's presence. One remained long enough to slam the iron, barred door shut and lock it. And Amarant was still, as he waited until their accusing voices disappeared. Then, turning to face the cell's thick bars, he leaned his back against the wall and slid into a sitting position.   
  
            He didn't care that he'd never see Alexandria or any of his former comrades again. He could see Freya, of course, or Eiko. Not that he'd ever want to. But the fact that he was falsely accused, for something such as murder, bothered him. Before, it never occured to him that it hurt other families and even people who had never been associated with the victim in the first place. He'd known, and still believed that pain was another part of life. However, experiencing it so closely seemed to touch him more than it should.  
  
            They had taken away his claws, of course. Now he had no weapons. Without them to fight, he couldn't figure out how he was going to find the money to buy new ones. Unless he stole it, of course. Then again, if he were caught by anyone -- armed with anything from daggers to deadlier -- he would have to resort to....  
  
             Amarant shook his head, swearing at himself. He was thinking about how to start over. Start over? He was really going to let it go, then, and start things all over again? Once Lani heard about this, anyway, she'd most likely come to try and break him out of prison. She'd be one of the few who would believe him, and not the rest of the entire city of Alexandria. But there was no reason for her to go anywhere with him, when he knew of her 'secret' love. Amarant almost grinned. He'd never actaully spoken to Marcus before, but he'd seen him once or twice in Linblum. A man, a thief to be exact, and not all that attractive....Lani somehow got a minute or two in her busy schedule to fall in love with him. Marcus, Amarant thought sourly. A man to be pitied if he ever marries her.  
  
             Somehow, hours crept by, and Amarant began to sense that it was growing darker outside. Unless Lani hadn't heard, she would have arrived by now. Of course, she might have simply ran off when she heard that her partner had been accused and exiled. Now that Amarant thought about it, it sounded like the more likely thing to do, in her case.  
  
            He stared at the bars of his imprisonment. It was, undoubtedly, going to be a very long night.  
  
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            It had begun to rain, by the time Cora reached the entrance to Alexandria's dungeon. In fact, she was drenched, having sat in the channel boat for so long. As she tediously approached the single guard, standing watch at the iron gates, she wondered silently how the Knights of Pluto, or any other knight for that matter, could stand being out in the rain. Didn't it rust their armour?  
  
            "Halt where you are," said the guard, raising her hand to signal her demand. "Identify yourself."  
  
            Cora suddenly felt glad that she'd cloaked herself, "I'm just....a little girl..." she sniffed, putting on her best, innocent voice. "I wanna....see my uncle, before he...." she sniffed, pretending to be on the verge of tears. Everyone, she remembered clearly, always told her how wonderful of an actress she could be. "Before he....leaves tomorrow..."  
  
            "You're uncle?" inquired the guard, a little softer this time. "How old are you? What is your name?"  
  
            Once again pretending, Cora wiped at her eyes, "My name is C..." she faltered. Should she use her real name? "C....Corala," she said, deciding to be careful.....just in case. "I...I'm nine years old," she lied.  
  
            "Well, Corala," said the guard, taking a careful glance around her. "Tell me, who is your uncle?"  
  
            "But..." sniffed Cora. "If I told you, you wouldn't let me in!" she wailed.  
  
             "Shhh..." the guard, hushed, looking rather flustered. "Of course I would. I have to let visitors in. It's my job."  
  
            "Oh..." said Cora, feeling a little safer now. "Please don't tell anyone....but....but I just wanna see my Uncle Amarant one last time, before...."  
  
             "Amarant," said the guard, a little more fiercly than Cora had expected. "You are related to that man? You poor thing. I have not been notified of any relatives, on the other hand. I'm not sure I can trust you, nine years old or not, little girl."  
  
            "But you have to!" wailed Cora again. "Please, he's the only family I got left! Please let me see him! Please???"  
  
            Clearly annoyed by her whining, the guard gestured at her, and made yet another hushing noise, "Very well! I will let you in to see him, but only for a short while! But first, I'm going to make sure that he really is your uncle. You stay put, and don't go anywhere, until I return. Do you understand?"  
  
            Inside, Cora was trembling, but she sputtered, "Th-thank you....I...I understand, ma'am...um, sir."  
  
            Great, she thought flatly, as she watched the guard disappear into the dark dungeon. Amarant doesn't know that I'm here! What do I do now?  
  
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            (They just get longer, and longer, don't they? Or is it shorter? Hmm....never mind. Well, this is DEFINITELY going to take a long time. And ont he next episode, if you're aching to know, Amarant is yes, dumped on the Outer Continent's perimeters....but what happens then? *suspensful music* Aha! *hug her stereo* I've already had a number of people kick my suspensful music maker....no hurt! Sigh. Yes, I'm tired. Can you tell? Anyway...please R&R! And Lizzie! Hehehehehe.....I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! I UPDATED! ARRRREEEE YYYOOOOUUUUU HHHHHAPPPPPYYYY?????? j/k! ^_^)


	4. Anticipation

 (First of all, I just gotta say: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIZZIE!!!!!! (belated? ;P) And thanks very much for really really liking my fanficcy....*smiles* If only other peeps were so nice as you....oh well. At least you're readin' it, right? You're so nice! Anyway, sorry for missin your brithday. It's not a dumb excuse! If ya woulda told me earlier, I would have had it up on your birthday! Well....)  
  
            This particular chapter is dedicated to Lizzie! *sings 'Happy Birthday' and dances in a circle* Whooo hooooo!  
  
             Anyway, just cause it's dedicated to the b-day girl, doesn't mean you others cannae read it, right? Well, enjoy!!!  
  
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                                                                        "**Sergundra**"  
                                                                       

                                                        --------------------

  
                                                                      By: Laura M. Ulian  
  
                                                                           2002-03-08  
  
                                                    Dedicated to: Lizzie (Happy B-Day again!)  
  
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            "You have a visitor."  
  
            It was simply that. No swearing, cursing, sneering, or leering. The guard's face was a little twisted, and her words sounded beyond disgusted, but she left the bandit's presence almost immediatly, when he message was through. The quiet clanking of her shiny, polished, and rain-wet armour echoed through the corridor, until it stopped altogether. Amarant grunted, and pulled himself to his feet. A visitor. The only one he could even half-expect to visit him, was Lani (in some disguise or another) Perhaps it was Velra, back for more taunts and torture.  
  
            Maybe it was Dagger, or Zidane. Zidane? Really, did he care that much? Whoever it was, the odds were probably 1 to about.....oh, say 10,000 that they were a well-wisher. Amarant braced himself for whomever the guard returned with, and found himself actually worrying about what would happen next. If it were Lani -- he'd have a chance to escape. If it were Dagger, maybe Zidane -- he'd had a chance to explain. If it were....Velra, he have a chance to growl back at her. Funny thing was, he didn't feel up to any growling at the moment.   
  
            A soft scraping of metal against metal jerked him back to his senses. Blinking, he peered through the bars of his cell to see two figures emerging from the darkness. His mind seemed to blank completely, when the soaked, hunched figure at the guard's right-hand was no more than four, four and a half feet tall. Something else, perhaps a piece of common sense, prevented him from swearing openly. Not even Lani could diguise herself that well, to have shrunk more than a foot in height.  
  
            "I am required to monitor your discussion, if it is what you wish," said the guard, as both she and the cloaked visitor halted before his cell door. Her tone was bored, rehearsed. It was evident that she would rather be outside in the rain, then sharing the company of a would-be killer.  
  
            "No," the visitor's reply was soft, and feminine. "You can go outside again. I'll be OK."  
  
             Amarant squinted at the puny figure. Something about the way she said 'I'll be OK', was all too familiar for comfort. Was it really Lani under that cloak after all?  
  
            Clearly restraining from rolling her eyes, the guard saluted the 'noble' girl, and set off down the corridor without looking back. Amarant didn't watch her leave. He was busy staring penetratingly at the 'visitor' he was beginning to have doubts about being a real 'visitor'.  
  
            "Lani if it's you under that cloak--" he began, slowly unclenching his compressed teeth.  
  
            "No," said the figure again, and with one more glance in the direction the guard had taken, she pulled her disguise over her head. Amarant almost fell over in shock. Cora blinked and shook her wet hair from her face, "Who's Lani?"  
  
             "What...." he growled. "You."  
  
            Cora grinned, "You don't seem all too happy to see me, Mr. Amarant."  
  
            "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, not in the least aware, or even caring that he was speaking to a eleven-year-old brat.  
  
            "Well, I was thinking of helping you escape," Cora smirked and tapped her fingers against the iron bars. "But I don't think a dinner knife is gonna cut this as well as I thought."  
  
             "Escape," Amarant's voice was flooded with skepticism. "You really think you can get me outta here with a blunt knife used for carving raw meat? Tell me you're kidding."  
  
            Cora broke into a sweet smile, "Of course I'm kidding," she practically purred. "That's why I swiped these from Mistress Maryweather over there." The girl unhooked something from around her wrist and held it up for the monk to see. Amarant blinked back his faulty surprise.  
  
            Cora jingled the keyring in her hand, tossed it, and snatched it from the air, "I might be a noble's daughter, but when I challenged you, I really meant it. And c'mon, I'm twelve years old....I'm not gonna go and trying something as stupid as carving your cell door away. Reason one: There's a guard down the hall with ears trained for this kind of thing. Two: It would take me well past visiting hours to create a hole large enough four YOUR head to fit through."  
  
            It was aimed well, and it stung. Amarant shook his head, and muttered a curse to the girl's ancestors, her parents, and her heritage, "Where did someone like you learn to steal like that?"  
  
            The girl feigned shock, "Why, Mr. Amarant, I'm surprised! How vulgar to call something as low as 'stealing'. It's more of... of a loan."  
  
            "That's what they all say," he grumbled, but had to admit that he liked her attitude. It sort of reminded him of a little Lani.  
  
            "And you just might want these," said the girl. She took something out of her pack (in which she had also hidden beneath her cloak) and tossed them through the bars. They clattered onto the floor. It was his Cat's Claws.  
  
            "You're nothing but a little thief," Amarant commented, in disbelief. He crouched to pick his weapons up, and no words passed between either of them as he strapped them to his fists. "Hmm, now I'll have some fun getting out of here. I'm gonna ask you one more time -- where the hell does a little noble girl learn this kind of trickery?"  
  
            "My mother taught me," Cora explained, growing quite serious again. Satisfied that he was now armed, she fumbled with three brass keys between her fingers. Her eyes clouded with bitter confusion, as she read the inscription on first one, "My real mother, anyway, before she died. Now, let's see....monto...sermin...allyamorris?" She lifted her eyes for a brief moment, to give Amarant a puzzling glance. "What is this.....latin?"  
  
             Amarant grunted, "It's searmon, a language taught to the Gahgnir," he explained, half-heartedly. "Give it here."  
  
            Almost reluctantly, Cora passed the keys through the bars. Amarant held them in one large hand, and peered at the inscription with a look of dull fascination, "Haven't read this crap in ages.....First....Cell.....Keyholder. 'Freedom for number one'." The bandit sighed, and looked back at the girl. "What cell number is this?"  
  
             "Hmmm...." Cora thought aloud, and glanced at the number imprinted on the stone above, "There's no number, but....sevria....hundo....malin?"  
  
            "What is this....a Gahgnir prison?" said Amarant, rolling his eyes. "It means 'Little silver one'. Use this," he ordered, handing the entire keyring to her with a noticable, silver-coated key separated well from the others. "Hell knows why I have a cell that stands out. Probably the only one without a bed."  
  
             "Ummmm.....there's something else," said Cora, pursing her lips. Her head craned to read the words associated with the cell number, "Antalmalion....forgonis...sel...camma...entrocitran....cal-calmrena....sito....." She shook her head, and scratched the back of her neck. "The rest is too faded..."  
  
             Amarant wasn't listening. He stared, "Entocitran calmrena....you're sure."  
  
            Cora looked from writing, to bandit, and frowned, "Yes," she said slowly. "Why?"  
  
             Amarant shook his head, "It's probably an old rumor..." he said, mostly to himself. "Will you unlock the door, or do I have to do that myself as well?"  
  
            Cora smirked, and jammed the silver key into the lock. It fit, but surprisingly, she did not turn it, "First," she said, grinning. "Tell me what it means."  
  
             Amarant had the urge there and then to strangle the girl through the bars, "It means," he said, through gritted teeth. "'Humble dwelling to the atlanion menace when' and according to you, the rest is unreadable. Turn the key. Now."  
  
             Satisfied, but rather shaken, Cora nodded her head. With a soft click, the cell door jolted and swung open. Cora stood back to let Amarant through, and grinned up at him with wide eyes, "Well, that didn't seem too har-"  
  
            She never recieved the chance to finish her sentence. Approximately four inches from her head, the wall burst open in an eruption of rocks and scales. A great cloud of dust rose into the air, keeeping whatever had broken the stone corridor in two from sight. But before Cora leapt away and covered her face with her hands, she swore that she saw the glint of a snakish body drop to the ground. A pitched hiss hung in the air, filling the girl's mind with a terrible image. Amarant had vanished from sight, enveloped with the heavy cloud, but somehow she could hear him growling a few words in the freakish language she had no mind to comprehend. The searmon words stung her ears worse than the horrifying sound of the attacker's threatening clamour. Cora yelped as she felt something silky brush her hand, and scrambled backwards on her hands and feet, pressing herself into an untouched stretch of wall.  
  
             Suddenly, a rush of fresh,cool air struck her in the face. The gritty air lifted slightly, seeping as a current through the gaping hole-in-the-wall. The scene that Cora faced, as she peered fearfully at the spot where the bandit prisoner had been standing, felt like a clammy hand gripping her heart. Amarant struggled with one arm to cut the demon serpent's throat, while pinning his other, in which was encoiled with the lower half of the snake's body, against the bars of his former cell. Abruptly, the fiendish monster, with an ugly face twisted into a snarl too hard to forget, jerked his tail, which sent the battling monk flying roughly into the wall opposite of the girl. Cora screamed, but Amarant was quick to get to his feet -- clearly injured but unaware . He lifted his good arm just in time to fend off the serpent's fangs as they descended upon him. There was a horrible shriek as the giant snake experienced a taste of it's own blood, when Amarant's weapons cut a sizable gash along it's gums. It roared, and in utter fury, dove for the monk's throat again, jaws agape for the kill.  
  
             Unfourtunately for the monster, it's opponent was slightly less dumb-witted than it's last victim. Cora winced as the serpent's head struck nothing but solid stone, where the bandit had once stood. A sickening crack of splintering bone adhered it's scream of agony. The girl turned her eyes away at the same moment Amarant's free fist, complete with exposed claws drove upon the base of the suffering creature's neck. There was no more noise, save for the slightly laboured breathing of the dibilitated, dazed victor. However, victory was a slight part of the battle's conclusion. He dropped to the ground, wall supporting his crippled back.  
  
             "Amarant!" Cora cired, forgetting her sweet, sarcastic innocence. Almost at once, she was across the corridor and kneeling beside him. Amarant merely sat, arms limply upon the floor. He lifted his head slightly to acknowledge her, but his face was fixed with a scowl.   
  
             "Not....not a rumor,"' he breathed. He tried to say something more, but his words were muted by a severing pain below his left shoulder blade. He swore openly, ignoring Cora altogether.  
  
            "That was....it was the atlanion?" the girl inquired, awestruck. "But....how did it..."  
  
             "Obviously," spat the monk, his eyes closed in silent agony. "It's purpose is....was to prevent any prisoner from escaping alive."  
  
            "Oh..." Cora could not think of anything more to say. Then a realization struck her, "Is it broken?"  
  
             "My back....or my dignity?"  
  
            Cora would have grinned at his attempt to be scornful, but her insides still shook too greatly from the experience, "Your back, silly."  
  
            "Not broken," he confirmed, swallowing his urge to scream, "Just permanantly crippled, that's all. Wouldn't expect...." he winced, unvolunarily, "....that you know any kind of white magic?"  
  
            "You bet your sorry ass I do," Cora snapped, sounding rather like him, more than she did herself. "Stop acting as if I'm helpless, and everything!"  
  
            "I just slayed a fifty-foot long serpent with the ability to crush six humans at once," said Amarant, hiding the skepticism from his voice. "And you cowered against a wall."  
  
            "I take it you _want_ to sit here until the guards return," Cora quipped, shifting herself, as if to get up. "It doesn't matter to me. I mean, I'm just your little niece to them. And considering you don't _have_ a niece, they'll have a pretty hard time tracking me down, won't they? I'll just leave, without a trace for them to follow. Good luck."  
  
            "You're my what?" he spat bitterly, as the girl picked herself up and brushed the dirt from her breeches. "What did you tell them?"  
  
            "That you were my uncle. Oh, I'm sorry, does that bother you?" said Cora. "It doesn't matter. I did, after all bring you the keys--"  
  
             "Albeit the wrong ones," he muttered.  
 

Cora pretended she didn't hear that, "And your stupid weapons, in which both of us would have been dead without. In both ways, this is both of our faults. I mean, you must have translated the inscription wrong in the first place."  
  
  


"No, the insciption was correct," Amarant growled, not daring to flinch for the sake of his injured back. "You simply didn't give me the full sentence. This is ridiculous. I'm quarreling with an eleven-year-old."  
  
            "A very angry little eleven-year-old that doesn't like to be mocked," retorted Cora. "But hey, I'll leave you to await your happy fourtune. Oh, and by the way, the penalty -- despite what ANYONE says -- for an attempted escape while expecting exile is always an execution. Don't worry, I'll make sure they bury you somewhere pretty."  
  
             "Dammit, Cora," said Amarant, lifting his head even higher, trying to determine if she was serious or not. "When you're finished deriding, perhaps you'd make yourself useful...."  
  
            Finally deciding that it was no use to stall any longer, "Well, I suppose it would be the human thing to do...." she mumbled, crouching on one knee. She carelessly waved one hand, and muttered something famliarly like, "Cura."  
  
            Almost instantly, Amarant felt a cool tingling sensation mixed with a sharp pain as his spine set itself and did the work of months worth of healing. As abruptly as it had begun, it vanished, and every amount of pain he'd been suffering had dispersed without a trace. He stared at the girl with a blank look of stale surprise, "I suppose your mother taught you that as well," he said.  
  
            "Only half-true," said Cora, pretending to find interest in scratching the back of her thumbnail. "My adoptive mother did. She's a white mage, like Queen Dagger."  
  
             Amarant nodded absently, secretly grateful that he could do so without feeling a splitting agony tear at his nerves. Without another words, he lifted himself to his feet, impulsively hunching slightly as he felt the muscles in his back stiffen at the effort. He ignored them, ".....Thanks," he growled, almost ungratefully.  
  
            "We're even," she implied. "You saved me from that....that serpent thing, after all."  
  
             Amarant smirked, but inside, his conscience was scolding him. He knew that if he'd never given her the silver key, then it wouldn't have triggered the fiendish decoy in the first place. Then again, it was also apparent that it had been neither's fault, for they couldn't have known without the full warning. A faded sign of caution wasn't too unusual of a cause of death. It happened rather often, and even though he knew this, he hastily decided it best if he didn't share it with the girl, "Right."  
  
            "So?" she wanted to know. "What do we do now?"  
  
             Whatever reason she though she would be accompanying him, he hadn't the slightest intuition. But he decided to let it pass, "There's no 'we', Cora," he said. "I'm not being mean, so don't start," he added briskly, seeing her eyes widen offensively.   
  
            "In the word's of my step-aunt," she declared, crossing her arms, "'Well, I never!'"  
  
             "Unfourtunately," he muttered, looking towards the far end of the prison corridor, "You're spunky sense of humour won't help me any on this little trip I'm about to make. Besides, Amses is gonna need you at home."  
  
            Cora snorted unpleasantly, "Home? My home is in Linblum, big guy."  
  
             Amarant felt the slightest bit of discomfort at being called something as vexing as 'big guy', but he showed no sign of it, "Sight-seeing. Should've seen it. Fine, wherever you live, that's where you have to go. But I appreciate the help. Really. Thanks."  
  
            Cora was much too brilliant for her age, to let him pass that off as a real excuse to exclude her from his master plan. However she felt about it, though, she knew there was no way to change his mind. "Well," she said, matter-of-factly. "I see."  
  
             Amarant shrugged. What she felt was no problem of his. She had, after all, done this without his asking. He knew that there wasn't going to be much time left before the guard returned. He glanced from the dead serpent, or half-serpent anyway, back to the scowling face of the eleven-year-old. "You'd better get outta here. You're a noble -- they don't expect someone of your status to do something as stupid as stealing, commiting an act of treachery, and then getting away with it. I'll escape as soon as the guard sees me. That way, I'm assuming she'll know that I'm not one to mess with."  
  
            Cora grinned, "Wait a minute. My status? Stealing? Are you accusing me of something?"  
  
             Amarant gritted his teeth, "If you don't run, I'll give you something to run from."  
  
            Cora, despite herself, giggled, "Fine. G'bye Amarant! I hope you find that Lani person you're looking for!"  
  
             Amarant stood, gazing indignantly after the gir's retreating back. And at the same moment she disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, he heard a not-too-unfamliar voice behind him shout in exasperation. He turned to face the jail guard's wrath, as she charged towards him. In spite of his way of thinking, Amarant grinned at the pending battle. He counted away the seconds before he knew he'd have to retreat. Just a glimpse of a fleeing prisoner should bring fear to their minds.  
  
            No matter the price the innocents would pay.  
  
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            (Well, I hope you don't mind me saying, but I'm rather shocked at this piece of writing. It's not so bad as the others after all. I think I'll give it a fancy heading and all. Yeah.....sounds like fun. I hope you liked it, and Lizzie, keep in mind that if I ever become famous.....you're the first dedication I've ever done before! *falls over* Hehehe, I like that. I'm gonna use that more often. *falls over again* Anyway....R&R if you lie! (or don't like. I don't mind critics as long as they don't rub in their so WONDERFUL talent and compare it to my own..........eh, just for the heck of it *falls over*))


	5. Affirmation

(All right, I skipped out the whole journey thingy.....A trip through Fossil Roo is nothing, trust me. This fic's a lot more that that, so please forgive me for the whole skipping the journet part. The first three paragraphs are before he goes to the Outer continent, and the rest is the present time....you know, when the fic first started out? It's back to that....anyway....)  
  
(Lizzie, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to take so long, and I'm sorry this chapter is so short....I have very little time now...I'll keep trying, though! *smile*)  
  
  
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He had to admit that he was relieved. Cora had escaped, obviously, and he was free. Free as an exiled man could get, that was...How could he be free, when Zidane didn't even trust him any longer? Of course, in these cases, he would simply shrug it of and return to Treno until things settled down again. It wasn't cowardice, it was logic. But even so, he had nothing to return to but the threat of the entire realm looking for him, and every last bounty hunter after his hide.  
  
  
If he was caught, he was worse than dead. He was dead, and dead in front of the two people he'd rather not be executed in front of. Zidane was the worst, and Dagger's accusing stare wouldn't help matters either. The fact was clear -- he had to flee Alexandria, go to Madain Sari, and find Lani. If she wasn't with him, she was there, and if she wasn't there, she was dead. Simple as that.  
  
  
The journey was long....  
  
  
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...and boring. Amarant shook himself from the ugly memories, and slowly unclenched his fist. He couldn't remember much of his little 'adventure', nor had he cared to take any needy notes about the weather -- no matter how terrible it had become. He had to travel through Burmecia's realm, and get get soaked thoroughly while he was at it. The only thing he regretted more than the damned rain that vexed him, was the fact that he'd left the others behind for Zidane and Dagger to explain matters to. And their explaination wasn't exactly the more truthful side of the entire story.  
  
  
Amarant knew it. Anger -- it was undoubtedly that one emotion that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. The entire trip through Fossil Roo, the long, hot days of travelling the Outer Continent's edge had been hard enough without potions or ethers, let alone self pity. Acussing himself was the last thing on his 'to do' list.  
  
  
The bandit shrugged the emotions from his shoulders as if they were made of stale air, and pulled himself to his feet, cursing the remaining half of his pending trip. He'd passed the overhanging village of Conde Petie already, and was glad of it. He rather despised their way of disposing of sewage in that place. If not up, then down, he supposed. It was the only thing that kept him from scaling the cliff walls and wringing every lousy dwarf within.  
  
  
Amarant travelled on, ignoring the wind, the sun, and the blistering heat that never gave in. He hated it, and cursed at every ticking second that passed for having to bear it. But the only time to act upon something, is when you had something to act upon. He had nothing to get angry over besides mother nature and her ugly ways of tending her second-most deserted continent. What was he to do? Yell at her?  
  
  
The night came on. In one day, he'd managed to make it as far as the other end of the Mountain Path. It still felt awkward to pass the place and not see the towering tree hovering above all else...Now it was but a giant pile of withering roots. Within the next decade or so, it would be nothing but a mound of eroded dirt, and then, another forest of one kind or nother. Did he care? Of course not. But the absence of the tree was unnerving....  
  
  
The next morning was nothing but more annoyances. He woke up to the snarling face of some hairy, six-eyed creature trying to rob him in his sleep. He took care of it easily, and continued his little expedition, crossing the large plain before him. Finally, for what seemed to him like hours, Madain Sari loomed before him. The crushed temples, the weathered buildings, and the dusty air was not as unfamiliar as he'd expected. It was almost....homey.  
  
  
Amarant passed through the pillars that had once stood as a gate, lifting his head to peer at the circular indentation he knew as the Wall Of Eidolons. If anywhere, Lani would be there, unless she was out hunting...or fishing. The bandit crossed his arms, listening to the defeaning silence with uncertainty. He snorted. No, even if Lani were gone....where were the moogles? There was no noise. None at all.  
  
  
Warily, he turned a full 180 degrees, to look behind him, and then faced the path again. There was something wrong....very wrong.  
  
  
"KUPO!!!!"  
  
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"Kupo!"  
  
  
"Hullo, Kupo," greeted Cora, absently. She crossed the yard and slumped herself onto a broken bit of rubble. "G'morning Stiltzkin."  
  
  
"Good morning, kupo!" said Kupo, almost too cheerfully. Stiltzkin shot him an uncertain glance. "What's wrong?" he inquired, turning to the girl. "You don't look so happy, Cora."  
  
  
"What's wrong?" the girl echoed, with a defaeted note in her voice. She threw her hands into the air. "Why, everything's wrong! He escaped from prison, and now there's legions of men after him! What have I done???"  
  
  
Stiltzkin blinked, "Don't talk so loud!" he insisted, waddling closer. "Do you want everyone to know what you did?"  
  
  
"I don't care..." Cor pouted, burying her face into her hands. "I didn't expect them to go this far with trying to find him. Why can't they just leave him alone? He's out of the realm!"  
  
  
"They don't know that for sure," said Stiltzkin. "They just want to find him, and make sure that he's not going to come back."  
  
  
"But that's awful!" the girl insisted. "It's like what they do to those stupid monsters that appear around town! Cage 'im up, fly him away and release him somewhere where they know they can't survive!"  
  
  
"That man can survive anything," came a voice from the steeple entrance.  
  
  
Startled, Cora squeaked, and leapt to her feet. She spun to face the intruder, only to meet a friendly, familiar face. Amses smiled, "Good morning, Cora. I'm so glad to see you're still here, and not tailing that fugitive of a man you seem so attached to."  
  
  
Cora sighed, helplessly extending her palms towards the heavens, "Why, Amses....why must you always show up without warning?"  
  
  
"Oh, you're secret's safe with me, girl," grumbled the old man, wringing his hands. "I just don't think that it's right proper for a noble lady like yourself to be fussin' over such a silly thing..."  
  
  
"Amses!" the girl snapped. "You KNOW that he's innocent. He's-"  
  
  
"I do not," snapped the old man, an unusual firmness and tranquility flooding his voice. Shocked, Cora took a step back, too dazed to say anything. Amses glowered at her for what seemed to be hours. Finally, and to her surprise, he quickly cast his eyes to the cobblestones. "But I do...I do believe that he is innocent, Cora. No one can know these things unless you have true proof. And that is why I'm letting you go."  
  
  
Cora stared, her jaw trembling, "Wh-what? B-but, go where?"  
  
  
"There," said Amses, shrugging. "Wherever. Travelling, Cora. To warn him."  
  
  
But Cora was all the more baffled, "But...warn him...? Stiltzkin said-"  
  
  
"The Alexandrians are not what that man has to fear," said the old man, moving forward, like a ghost. "Cora, I've known you for too long. You were planning on going after him after all, and you know it. Amarant Coral is safe as long as Her Majesty's troops are all that follows him. But the...the other man on his trail is dangerous, Cora, and you have to tell him."  
  
  
"Wha..." Cora shook her head feverishly. "What? Amses, you're not talking sense! What man on his trail?"  
  
  
Amses shrugged, as if he'd no notion of what he'd just said, "Probably just drunk talk, Cora, but there's a mighty rumour spreadin' that tells about a black-caped man tryin' for Coral's death."  
  
  
Cora's eyes widened. "He...she...they want to kill Amarant?"  
  
  
"Sadly," affirmed the old man. "I know that I'm your guardian, Cora, and I should have more sense than te jus-"  
  
  
The girl smirked, "Oh, really, Amses," she said, mockingly. "When was the last time you acted at guardianly towards me? Geez, you'd think you were my younger brother or something."  
  
  
"Older brother," the man argued, his throat cracking in a cheery laugh. "If it's not brains or brawn I got to lose compared to the almight Cora, it's nonsense. I'm far wiser than you, and don't forget it!"  
  
  
"Right," scoffed the girl, moving forward to pass him by, just barely brushing his shoulder. "That's why you go drinking every single night of your life."  
  
  
Amses shook his head, and didn't watch the girl leave. He turned his eyes on the two moogles, who were both staring at him as if he'd produced rotten kupo nuts from his pockets, "Don't look at me that way," he said gruffly, waving his hands towards them dismissively. The old man turned on his heel to follow the girl out of the steeple, but an angry 'kupo' made him freeze in his tracks.  
  
  
"Ooooh, you're a coward, kupo!" Kupo cried, moving towards him with ungraceful flaps of his wings. "Kupo! You can't let her go alone, kupo!"  
  
  
"For once, he's right," said Stiltzkin, shaking his head. "You have to go after her."  
  
  
Amses laughed, looking between the two moogles, "My fighting days are long over, you two. Now c'mon, stop pestering me, and I'll get you both a snack or somethin'..."  
  
  
The old man turned again, shaking his head. But the next words the moogle cried out were too mind-racking to ignore, "What if she gets in trouble, kupo! What if she needs your help?"  
  
  
Slowly, Amses turned to stare at both moogles, one hovering, the other standing with an expectant look twisting his face. The guardian sighed. How did his life end up this way? "Oh, poor feet, forgive me for what I'm about to do..." he muttered under his breath. Then, clearing his throat, he made solemn eye contact with the oddly-dressed moogle, who was returning his stare just as wisely. "Now you've done it..." he growled. Suddenly, he sighed. "Well, paint me black and call my an interior decorator...you've convinced me. Kupo, get me a new weapon from the shops....anything will do. Stiltzkin, I hate to ask of it, but you need to find me some new armour. I know it's hard to find around here, but....dang blast it, I gotta go with her."  
  
  
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	6. Admonishment

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"Admonishment"  
  
By; Laura May Ulian  
  
Blahhhhh....I'm having fun, hehe. Well, yes, onwards m'folks....(headers are SO pointless....no one reads 'em! hehe)  
  
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"KUPO!!! Amarant, kupo! Eeeek! Kupo!"  
  
He wasn't exactly sure, but the moogle's whining, pitched voice was just beginning to annoy him. Morrison bore down on him like an overloaded, runaway chocobo cart, flapping his wings so fast that they were a mere blur to the naked eye. Amarant stared seethingly as the moogle dropped to a halt, panting with exhaustion. It took several minutes before the moogle had the breath to speak.  
  
"Ooooh..." he squeaked with pain. Suddenly, now that it was closer, Amarant realized that the moogle's wings were torn from limb to corner. It didn't really set any pity in his mind, but at least it answered his question to why the moogle was so out of breath. Morrison wailed, "Mistress Laniiii! Amarant, Lani is gone, she's gone and we couldn't stop him!"  
  
Amarant blanked. Unconsciously, a twitch developed between the muscles of his left shoulder. It was all he could to to refrain from wringing the vexing creature's neck, "....Where?"  
  
Morrison shook his head, shaking with agony, "Ohhhh...they took her! He took her away...away!"  
  
"Who!?" He wasn't in the mood for games.  
  
The moogle shuddered even more, "Th-the black man...the one with the cape! Ooooh, sir, it's horrible....horrible! Oooohhhh, Mogryo! Poor Mogryoooo...." he whined, cowering against the ground like a frightened rabbit kit.  
  
".......Mogryo," Truthfully, Amarant cared more about crap than he cared about the moogles, but he needed all the information he could get.   
  
"Mogryooo!" Morrison repeated, almost screeching. "He came to visit us! That's all, he came to say 'hi', and that was it! Ooooh....why? What did he doooo...?"  
  
Amarant was tolerant with the grief-stricken moogle, but he also had his own 'grief' to deal with at the moment, "And....?"  
  
"They....they....." Morrison gulped, and began to whimper pitifully.  
  
The rest of the sentence was unnecessary. Amarant sneered in disgust -- the moogles were annoying, but.....slaughtering an innocent creature? What kind of grudge did this man have against him, anyway? Who was this bastard? And why the hell did he take Lani?  
  
Only when Morrison peered up at him with round, frightened eyes, did he realize he'd spoken the last question out loud. The moogle, shrunk back, and abruptly began to shake again, "H-he....I, I don't know....th-the man wanted t-to know where you w-were, and...oh, Miss Lani was soooo brave....she wouldn't t-tell him, so he ordered t-two of the green-looking m-men to take her awaaaay!"  
  
It was broken, but it was what he needed to know, "Where? Dammit moogle, you're tryin' my nerves. Where in Gaia's hell-bound fate did he take Lani?"  
  
"U-uh...." the moogle, apparently gaining a touch of his lost courage, stared defiantly at the towering bandit. "N-no! I won't tell you until you promise me that you'll save her!"  
  
Amarant took a minute to think. Save her? Hell, every time he went to save her from something, she ended up meeting him halfway back. If Lani wasn't the creator of tricks and schemes, then there was none. But this was different, he supposed. This time, it was his fault that she was mixed up in the mess, so he'd have to do the fair -- albeit the stupid -- thing, and go rescue her. Even if she'd managed to escape....  
  
"Damn," Again, he swore openly. "All right, I'll save her.....if she's not already dead. Now tell me where they went!"  
  
Morrison squeaked and immediately began to tremble again, "A-Ahhh...th-the F-Forgotten C-Continent...." he almost whispered. "O-Oeilvert...."  
  
That was all he needed to know. No, he wasn't heartless, but the fact that the moogle was hurt, and his friends might have have suffered a fate worse, simply didn't bother him. The moogles were Lani's friends, not his. What connection did he have with them? Amarant sighed. No, that was cruel.....Shrugging, mostly to convince himself, he took a potion that he'd brought along and set in on the ground before Morrison. "If she makes it back here before I do, tell her nothing of this," he growled. Morrison blinked, "K-kupo..." he agreed.  
  
Satisfied, Amarant turned his back on the injured moogle. Within a few paces, he was out of Madain Sari, and already crossing the plains towards the Mountain Path. He was nearly halfway to the place, when a new question introduced itself. How was going to get from the Outer Continent, to the Forgotten Continent? He had no boat, no fancy magic, and certainly no airship to travel. He cursed bitterly to himself. There was no way across, unless he swam, that is.  
  
Which was stupid, of course.  
  
Amarant stopped in his tracks, to look wordlessly over his shoulder at the nearly-empty Madain Sari. No, the only things it hosted were a handful of wounded moogles, and one or two rickety rowboats. How was he supposed to cross the ocean with them?   
  
Things were only getting worse.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Cora didn't bother with packing any of her things. Hastily grabbing her twin daggers from under her pillow, she stuffed them into their proper sheaths. The girl sighed, eyes rounding on the pretty inn's room. It had been fun while it lasted, at least. Alexandria was a great place to relax, as long as there weren't people she consantly found admiringly strong, and skilled enough for a challenge. Of course, there had been younger warriors than herself....Eiko Carol being one of them, of course. Cora smirked -- maybe she'd challenge the regent's daughter some day.  
  
"Cora Olwen, you're to be my death!"   
  
Cora wasn't surprised. Rolling her eyes, the girl spun on her heel to face the hunched, irritated Amses emerging from the doorway. Her guardian grunted, "All right, all right, you want an adventure so badly, I'll go with ye."  
  
"Oh!" Cora threw her hands into the air in mock relief. "Well, that should make things so much better, Amses. Thank you." Sighing, she knelt on one knee to relace her boots.  
  
Amses frowned, "I'm serious."  
  
Cora didn't look up from her task, "Then so am I," she muttered.  
  
The guardian growled a harsh laugh, "Yer never gonna change, are ye? I shouldn'ta thought less."  
  
The girl stood up again, straightening her tunic and brushing the dust form her arms, "No, you shouldn'y have. You'd better be ready now, Amses, because I want leave now. That is, oh precious guardian, if it's all right with you."  
  
"Hmm," Amses grunted again. "I know yer mad at me, but the least ye can do is give me back my respect."  
  
Suddenly, Cora broke into a wide mischievous grin, "Oh, Amses..." she sighed, shaking her head. "You really think I'm going to stay mad at you for the whole trip? I can't stay mad at you for more than a minute!"  
  
Amses looked at her, half-accusingly.  
  
Cora laughed, "Nothing like spreading a bad mood. C'mon guardian-of-mine, let's get going, ok? And don't be sour, or....or....I'll tell mother."  
  
Clearly trying to refrain a laugh of his own, Amses scratched th back of his neck, muttering bitterly, "We're gonna have te find a new threat. Have us tell yer mother half the things we actaully say we will, I'd be an english butler, and you'd be a downright homeless child."  
  
"Uh..." Cora screwed her face into a look of puzzlement, "Amses, you sure say the strangest things sometimes."  
  
Her guardian shook his head and pulled his hood back from his face, "Not strange," he argued gruffly. "Only true. We'll hafta be careful, Cora. Even if they dun find us, they'll find Amarant, and if we're with 'im, we'll share a little piece of that punishment 'e has."  
  
"Not with my plan we won't," said Cora. "Don't worry about it, Amses. I have everything under control. Now let's go!"  
  
Amses was silent when the girl brushed past him, barely touching his shoulder. Slowly, the old man's hand reached inside of his pocket and withdrew his rugged pipe. The guardian wordlessly struck up a match and lit his little toy, while taking a calm puff of the smoke. He shook the flame from existance and sighed, bringing one hand to displace the pipe from his lips, "A gil for every time I heard that and I'd be a rich man."  
  
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	7. Agitation

                                                                                "**Agitation**"

(This would be rated PG-13 BTW…..it has a little blood and swearing. That's all though….I'm running out of time! Heeeeere's the next chapter!)

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**_Before…._**

"So he's gone…."

                Only Dagger detected the hint of relief in Zidane's voice, even with his back turned. The queen smiled softly, much to Velra's confusion, and addressed the guard with a new firmness, "I thank you an behalf of us both….you may return to your post now. Beatrix," She nodded towards the general, silently ordering her to remove Velra from the chambers.

            Beatrix saluted her queen, and gestured for Velra to accompany her as she left the room. With a respectful nod towards the queen, and a wary glare for Zidane, the guard obeyed, silently. The doors had barely closed before they swung open again to reveal a very flustered Steiner, complete with a new set of armour, "Y-Your Majesty…" he knelt before the queen, mouth gaping for air. "Searched….the…the city, your highness,…No sign of a…a Corala anywhere."

                Dagger nodded again, "Thank you Steiner, and please, I'll ask you again not to kneel before me. It's embarrassing after all we've been through together."

                Cheeks flushing bright red, the knight got to his feet, "My a-apologies…I will try my best to remember that."

                "Hey, Rusty…" Zidane began, facing the Captain, "How is it Dagger gets all the formality? By Conde Petie law, your lookin' at the new King of Alexandria."

                "Why you insolent-" the knight began, shaking a fist in the genome's face.

                "Steiner! Zidane! This is hardly the time or place!" Dagger snapped, crossing her arms. "This is a discussion about Amarant, not your pointless quarrels! This is….this is horrible. What if he appears in Alexandria again? I'd be declared a bad queen, and it's so soon…"

                "Your majesty should have no reason to worry," Steiner pointed out, cheerfully as he could best. "As much ignorance that man shows, I do not believe he will do something as rash as that."

                Zidane nodded in agreement, "For one, Sir Rustalot is right. He may be a little hard to cope with, but he knows that you'd be blamed if he returned. You don't have to worry about that."

                "Then….then that's it," the queen confirmed, looking only slightly relieved. With a sigh, she sank into a velvety chair. "That means he's gone….It's so unfair, Zidane. All he did was help us save the entire world, and now he's been banished under…under my order!"

                "He might be a fault, remember," said Zidane, his brightened features fading instantly. "He was a bounty hunter or something before he joined up with us….he could be one again. He never told me what happened to Lani…I'm sure she was with him throughout the entire thing. I'll bet she's even the one that freed him from prison, and gave him back his weapons."

                Dagger shook her head, "That's where you're wrong, Zidane. He might not have told you, but he informed me that Lani had gone back to Madain Sari. I even bade her goodbye when she left, and saw her escort take her away….There isn't a way she could have returned without the airship in such a short time."

                "I don't know then," Zidane sighed. "But I'm confused. You're right – he may not have actually committed the crime. I just don't want to trust him right now….that's all."

                For several moments, Dagger listened to the silence created between the three. It must have been her imagination, but she could have sworn there was a change in his voice. He wasn't speaking right, either. It was almost as if the entire event had made him someone new…..but that was impossible. Of all things, Amarant's exile would be the last thing on his mind, would it not?

                "Zidane…." The genome glanced in her direction, with no change of expression. Dagger cleared her throat, and looked momentarily at her feet, "Is there….Is there something wrong? You're…."

                Zidane raised and eyebrow at her in such a way, that it set a humiliating ball in the pit of her stomach. He paused, and then spoke, "What's wrong? There's nothing wrong with me."

                Even still, the tone in his voice was unchanging. It sent a shiver down the queen's spine, and she turned away, to hide her blushing face. "Um…no, never mind then. I'm probably imagining it. I….excuse me," Quickly, and rather clumsily, Dagger picked up her skirts and began to trot towards the chambers door. No soon had she gone a single yard, than she felt Zidane's. warm hand on her shoulder. "Dagger?" came his worried voice. "Is something the matter?"

                The queen turned to meet his worried face, and sighed with relief. The old Zidane was back, shining through the eyes she had been lost in not a single day ago. "No," she said, softly, and managing a small smile. "Nothing is the matter…I'm in a hurry to return to bed, however….It's four in the morning, Zidane….surely you're tired as well?"

                Zidane barely hesitated but nodded, "Of course. I'm sure that even a stud such as myself wouldn't find a spot in the-"

                "Zidane!" Dagger laughed while she scolded him. "Don't even say it! If I hear it one more time-"

                The genome held up his hands in a mockingly defensive way. "Hey! Don't kill me for trying! Geez….well, care for an escort? I'm cheap."

                And, both ignoring Adelbert Steiner's apprehensive scowl s and glares, the couple left the room, arm in arm. Dagger's laughter echoed throughout the hall, announcing another of Zidane's smart cracks. His own chuckle met the Captain's ears like a breath of relief. Steiner 'harumphed' and crossed his arms with a clank of metal, his eyes trained on the genome's back as they withdrew. As long as the queen was happy, he was content to say in the least…

                But there was something fishy with Zidane….what was wrong with him? Certainly, he didn't care that much about the mongrel, Amarant?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                "Ugh! I'll tear you from limb to limb! I'll kick your ass so hard you'll kiss the moons! Just _wait _until I get my hands on you! I hope you hate your life, because it's going to end _very _soon! Let! Me! Go!"

                Despite the red-hared woman's screams and threats, the lumpy-armed, greenly man's grip remained firm and cold. Lani bit, kicked, punched, screamed and raged, but with no prevail. The only reaction she received from the towering monster was a steely glare and a nonchalant grunt. After that, he remained unaffected by her torments.

                "He'll come! Dammit, he's gonna….he'll….." Lani found herself running out of threats very soon. Pushing her mind to the brim, she came up with yet another,. "He'll pound your head in so far, you'll have to watch the rest of your buddy-buddies die through your-"

                It was a smart, and very ugly comment, but the bounty huntress didn't have a chance to finish it. The very moment the 'a' of her next word escaped her mouth, she felt something with the force of a sledgehammer hit her in the stomach. Unable to draw her next breath, Lani doubled over on the ground, clutching her stomach. Helplessly, she watched as her attacker – not her captor – approached the now-circling groupd of towering men. It was a cloaked man, with a youthful face….all of what showed, anyhow. Lani gritted her teeth.

                The cloaked man stopped, feet rooted to the ground in front of her. After a short pause, he bent down to retrieve the club that had been his choice of assault. Swinging it by the handle, he allowed the rough surface of the weapon brush the bounty huntress's cheek once or twice, before grabbing it by both hands and driving it softly down upon her head. Even the lightest blow was enough to send her sprawling. Though she rest against the dusty ground with eyes closed, her breathes came in even gasps. It appeared that she was unconscious.

                "Must I do everything?" The cold, merciless voice filled the air. Dropping the ugly club on the ground by Lani's feet, he dusted his hands off the front of his cloak. "Even a moldy intellect such as yours could have thought of that. Do try to think of it next time."

                Literally whimpering in fright, the stocky, monster-like man knelt and bowed until his head touched his knee. Around him, his companions were doing the same, some squeaking in utter obedience. Mustering his shaky courage, Lani's captor spoke with dread in his voice. "I-I shall, y-your Grace, your Wisdom, sire…m-my liege, your-"

                "That will do," came the same voice, as the smaller man crossed his arms. "Hurry it up, Hal. I don't have much patience."

                "Y-Yes, m-my liege," stuttered Hal, deciding that 'my leige' sounded the best. "Our…our report is…The outskirts of the entire continent are d-deserted. W-we had little trouble capturing th-the girl. We had a skirmish with the savages on the opposite sh-shore, but w-we subdued them. Iet…Ietrea requests a d-discussion….Th-that…that is all."

                Half a minute of scattered silence followed Hal's report. The cloaked man merely stood with his arms crossed, and his mouth a firm line. Hal shuddered, lowering his head again, as if detecting something amiss with the man's attitude. 

                "Is that all?" said the cloaked man. "My, Hal…you are a lousy liar…Now, Hal, I am a very impatienr man. Is there something more, perhaps? Tell me, and thank me, Hal. I'm giving you a second chance."

                "N-n…" the large man began to say, and then stopped. For several moments, he appeared to be struggling with two decisions….none in which proved to end in life over death. "Y-Yes, s-sir…" he finally blurted, shaking until his very bones rattled. "M-my men…p-please, if there is n-not much to ask, I-if it pleases you, s-sir, my m-men are starving…there is no food, and d-due to our…our weaking….the g-girl killed five of our m-men….we…we need food…please…."

                "Oh," came the starchy reply, thick with contempt. The cloaked man stepped closer to his inferior. "Is that it? All you wanted to say? Your men are….starving?"

                Almost swallowing his tongue in the process, Hal manages to piece together a, "Y-y-ye...y-yes s-s-s-s-"

                Hardly the man finished his last word did blood spill from his lips, and his eyes glass over with a dead man's stare. The cloaked man sneered, jerking his hand, which was attached to the bloodied sword. It came free of the large man's corpse, and the body fell into a heap onto the dusty ground. The surrounding men shrank back in horror, some emitting an unhuman shriek, and others falling to their knees in grief. They had witnessed the trial and murder of their own captain.

                The cloaked man disregarded the screaming 'men', and wiped the mess from his sword onto the dead Hal's already-soiled vest. "He didn't thank me," he said uncaringly. Then, whirling about, he glared in the direction of the nearest trooper. "Fetch me another sword, mule," he spat, scowling at the dirtied weapon in disgust. He held it between fingertips, as if it were crawling with worms. "I refuse to confront the Master sheathing a blade stained with the blood of an ungrateful coward."

                The trooper whimpered, then squealed as the same blade grazed his shoulder. The cloaked man roared, "Get me a new sword NOW! MUST I ASK AGAIN!?"

                Screeching, the monster-man took off towards the campground as fast as his limbs could carry him.

                "You," growled the cloaked man, bearing down on another, bulky giant-man. "You are in charge of this troop's rations, orders, and everything else from now on!" Softer now, and almost understanding, he spoke with a gentler tone. "Are we in agreement? Or shall I repeat my previous actions?"

                Grunting, although clearly afraid, the giant-man nodded, half cringing. "Captain Grug will take care of everything. Lordship must not worry. Lordship has much to handle already."

                The cloaked man, however, smiled at this, "There. You see, my fellow Masterlings?" he said, turning about in a lazy circle. He spread his arms wide, gesturing to all that surrounded him. "If you all understood me like your new Captain Grog, we would get along much better than this." He spat the last word, pointing to the mess that was now Captain Hal. "You are dismissed. I'm sure Greg will see to it you are fed tomorrow morning."

                Captain Grug continued to nod, bowing his head, and muttering a low, "Thank you, sir. Tank you….thank you….thank you…."

                And the monster-man continued to mutter his false apologies until the cloaked man dispersed. Two smaller troopers solemnly picked up the limp bounty huntress from where she lay, and carried her off towards the tents. They did not see her frightened, half-open eyes, nor her disgusted curse. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                "This isn't what I had in mind, Cora!" grunted Amses, sawing away at the coarse ropes he held in one hand.

                "It's either my way, or the high way, Amses!" the girl retorted, slicing at one rope, and moving to the next. Three ropes later, she turned to face him.

                "I thought this _was _the high way…." Her guardian muttering, continuing to hack and saw at the thick rope with his dagger. He could feel the weapon's blade growing hot beneath his hand again. He had already been forced to trade daggers with Cora twice, and he had three burn blisters on his left hand. The rope seemed to grow thicker and thicker, and it's thickness was beginning to drive the old man crazy.

                You see, Cora and Amses were cutting the ropes to a small, fancy-looking airship.

                "Did you expect us to swim or what?" the girl demanded, cutting at yet another rope. "There, that's all of them, I think," She put her hands above her head and stretched.

                "If only," Amses growled.

                "Ugh," Cora sighed, and with one swift movement, brought her blade down on Amses stubborn rope. With an obedient "snap", it flew into the air, and dangled. It's ends, of course, were much more frayed than the others.

                "Ye certainly seem te have a way wit' torturin' an old man," Amses sighed.

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                (What? A cliffhanger? Oh well. It's not a REAL cliffhanger. Sorry it took about A YEAR for this ting to be posted….like I said, I'm workin' on something big. Can't tell you what…..nope, not yet. R&R, please! Ciao!)


	8. Addition

**__**

Sergundra

****

Either I've earned the IQ of a pickle, or this fic hasn't been updated in….years? Haha…ahem. Here we go. Amarant fic…yay….

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"Something about this continent changes every time I see it…"

Cora wrinkled her nose and looked up from her present workings -- steering the eight-ton airship through some difficult clouds. "What was that Amses?"

"Hmm…nothing."

The trip had been silent since take-off, which was more unusual for the fifty-nine-year-old guardian than it was for even the large-mouthed eleven-year-old Cora. Amses had done nothing more but stand at the door of the cabin, gazing out at the thick, soupy clouds through the glass. Deciding this was a normal mood for an old man in the air, Cora had made no attempt to mention her troubles to him. She was, in fact, trying hard to steer a straight course…but it seemed every time she flew straight, something pushed the ship to one side. It was as if she was flying into a giant, negatively charged field…and she herself was charged no differently.

"….However, I am slightly concerned about your ability to fly. I am a man with an imagination, Cora, but I wasn't imagining those violent rocks…what's wrong with the ship?"

The girl tore her eyes away from the windscreen, and glared curiously at her guardian. It was now or never. "Nothing is wrong with the ship…we're just suffering a major magnetic storm…that's all. I think that the clouds and the ship are both negatively charged…there's not enough positive electrons to-"

Amses interrupted her. "Yes, Cora…I too, took science in my younger schooling years."

"Then you of all people should know what a thunder storm looks like."

"Hmmm," Amses grunted. "Didn't bother to concern myself with it…there's not diddly chance of us getting shocked if we're suffering these conditions."

"Then go to sleep. We won't have clearance from this storm for at least another hour or so," Cora spoke as she wildly spun the steering mechanism to the right, fighting off yet another strong pull from the storm. Amses nearly fell flat on his face as a fierce shock ripped through the ship.

"Ah, Cora…" the guardian grumbled. "I'll be asleep in my grave before this is over…"

--**--***--**--***--**--

It hadn't been the brightest thing to do, nor had it been the most reasonable…but of all forms of traveling, the bounty hunter had to admit that boats were the safest…and the most abundant. No matter how dumb a thing it was to do, the fact that he'd thought of it at all was simple luck.

In either case, the small, coastal town of Tyrock had one less, acre-sized yacht for sale.

It wasn't as if anyone was going to buy it, anyhow. Pleasure cruises were an out thing in the northern sea. Anyways, it was awkward enough steering a small ship designed for luxuries through the rough waves of the mid-sea, but at least it was something. His mind had already started to debate the easiest way to swim across when he had stumbled across a hidden settlement. They were fishermen, the entire tribe…and they were all human. The Outer Continent possessed human life and he was the first to figure it out.

What luck.

Besides, what did it matter to him? He was only crossing the damn sea because he needed to know who exactly was trying to kill him. If he wasn't mistaken, only a fool would sit around and wait for an assassin to appear and murder him in his sleep.

Who was the bigger fool: the one who waited, or the one who set out to _find _the killer? 

He wasn't a sailor. He'd never piloted a ship, in water or air, in his entire life before. Now he was. Where was the irony? It would take several more days just to catch sight of the next continent. It would take another full day to land and scale the tough cliffs of the Forgotten Continent shore. Another three days to reach Oilivert, and what would he do then? What if they had left with Lani? Or worse – killed her?

Better, he reminded himself. Definitely better.

Amidst his thoughts, his wariness had subsided. When his senses kicked in, the sun had touched the horizon, the sky dimming to a perfect orange. Not only that, but the days wind's coughed feebly, and then died. His sail sagged, dead as a wet blanket. Then it was quiet. He gave in.

He skipped his evening meal. The wind had been poor since he had set sail, and he simply knew that the distance he had covered was far less than what it should have been. Quietly, he threw some line onto the sail and fastened a toy bell he had picked up earlier to one of the ropes. When the wind picked up again, it would wake him. And so he prepared to sleep.

Fate laughed at him.

His ears picked up the distant sound of a steady drone. He ignored it. It was just some foghorn from an island lighthouse. Sleep tugged at his mind.

A serpent tugged at his boat.

The jolt sent him to his feet, his hands grasping the side of the boat until his knuckles whitened. Beneath the surface of the black water, a flat, toothy face with twin, glowing eyes stared back at him. Like fate, it laughed at him, and jerked at the yacht's rudder again with its enwrapped tail. The yacht did a very threatening roll, nearly sinking one side under the still water.

The sea growled, exaggerating the dull roar of the dragon-sized snake that clawed at the boat's hull. Unknown the to single crewman, the drone he had heard only minutes earlier grew steadily louder. But the monster was making enough noise to deafen the bounty hunter for several moments. Before Amarant had strapped his Claws to deal with the creature, it had reached out with both, skinny arms, and capsized the yacht. But not before it's determined prey abandoned the bow, readying his fists to attack the predator.

But he could not see. The water was cold, and dark. It numbed his limbs instantly. He did not even try to resurface. The serpent had thought it was pretty clever, but it would not find him if he let himself sink. It was probably too busy ripping the yacht apart in search of its missing quarry to realize that the man had evaded him completely. And so he drifted deeper, to certain death, with a content smirk on his numbing face.

--**---***---**--

"Amses! Wake up!"

The old man snorted, snapping his eyes open to see none other than the gleaming, demanding glare of a stubborn eleven-year-old, inches from his face. He squinted, and then closed his eyes again, grunting and grumbling about it being midnight and well past the lady's bedtime. Cora sighed, pinching her nose as the backed away.

"Oh, geez, your breath stinks. Amses, get up! There's something below us and I don't know what it is."

"Just some ship…probably…" yawned the sleepy guardian. He felt slumber lure him into a peaceful daze.

"Amses!"

He jolted awake. "Yes…milady…" Yawning heavily, the old man dragged himself to his feet. His back popped miserably. 

Cora had to half-drag him into the cockpit eventually, pushing pulling, shoving – anything to make the old man move faster. When he was safely planted in front of the main viewer, Cora raced over to the control panel and punched a steely button. Despite the grogginess he felt, Amses' mind went completely rigid when he saw the shape on the screen. The infrared light Cora had activated illuminated the sea serpents enormous form. The creature lifted its head to the droning airship, hissed, and then fled, but not before turning over the boat it had wrapped its tail about. 

It was only a brief instinct, but through his mounting fatigue Amses caught a glimpse of something, a moving figure near the bow of the yacht. Cora sighed, watching the underbelly of the boat float about for a few moments before turning her eyes to her guardian. "Oh well, it was just a-"

Amses lifted a quiet hand to silence her. She shut her mouth, evidently confused by her mentor's sudden awareness. The old man stepped closer, shaking his head. "Cora," he said softly. "Move the ship ahead two sharls and turn on the heat sensors."

The girl lifted and eyebrow. "Amses, there were no people on that boat. Come on, it's a pleasure yacht. What kind of morons would sail-"

"Cora, turn on the heat sensors."

She obeyed, but not before making an unpleasant face.

Her scowl immediately turned into a pale expression of cold shock when the faintest, red glow of a descending, fading object appeared on the right side of the capsized bow. It flickered, and then disappeared, obviously having sunk too far to be detected. Either that, or…

"Rewind it."

"Huh?" she blinked in disbelief at the old man when he demanded it. "Amses, this isn't being-"

Growling, Amses, strode forward and punched a blinking yellow button. The screen flashed as it moved in reverse direction. Scanning the colors as they passed, Amses punched the console again when the red glow was in full view. Cora watched on in awe, as the old man switched off the heat sensors and reactivated the infrared vision. Then, she squeaked.

"It appears we've identified our moron," the old man sighed. Then, "Cora, little lady, what do you think your doing?"

"What does it look like?" the girl inquired, struggling into the filmy suit that hung on a rack near the pod consoles. "That water is about point one over zero. Any lower, it'd be ice. You think I'm letting him die like that?"

"That pod is not well insulated. It is used for waters around the Mist Continent, little lady, and you will not be going down there if I can help it."

"Well you can't," the girl stated firmly. "Because I'm going down there whether you chain me to the bridge or not."

And, with no further argument, she slid into the narrow door of the ship's excavating pod. The next moment, she had entered the code and disengaged from the hovering airship. Amses stood in silent protest as the roughly cylinder craft plummeted into the freezing waters below. Feeling anything but helpless, he quickly ended the tape and watched the large, red blob of heat sink lower into the endless depths. It disappeared.

"Ams-" her voice crackled on the transmitter attached to the screen. The old man lifted a brow. Amse…dark dow...here. I think…ee him."

"Good girl," he said, mostly to himself. "Then get 'im before your gears turn to ice."

"I…an't." There was earnest in her tone. "Th...od's not equip…da stuff."

"Cora," the old man warned. "Don't go too deep. I can barely hear you."

"I…ound him," she announced. "But I…ave to-"

Her voice was suddenly cut off by a loud, consistent wave of static. Something dark, and ominous passed just below the surface of the water, writing left and right. Its tail whipped behind it like a flag of triumph, just before it lifted its glowing eyes, and dived. Amses felt his heart freeze solid. The sea's icy waters would have melted the horror that encased his mind.

"Cora," he grunted, stumbling over to the screen. "Cora! Cora, get outta there, now! You hear me? Cora!"

The signal was not cut. The static had lifted, but the only sounds that were emitted by the viewer were the faint blips of the pod's consoles. It was silent. Not a noise. 

Swearing openly, forgetting himself for the briefest moments, Amses dashed to the main controls of the ship. Somehow, he managed to keep a still hand while he punched in a command and steered the ship closer to the surface of the water. Gently, with the barest jolts on the ship floor, he lit on the cool, black water, and allowed the ship to drift aimlessly. He was already out of the cockpit door and onto the deck before the ship had made a full landing.

He felt a gentle vibration through his feet, as the descending monster either roared in either triumph, or ecstasy. Quickly, he ran his hand over the small panel at the bow of the floating ship, before stepping onto the small platform that lowered it's belly to the softly lapping water. 

Minutes of icy silence passed. Amses felt as if his heart would burst. There were no continuing signs of a struggle or ascending shapes. Perhaps the serpent had grabbed little Cora from the water when she tried to retrieve the cursed man. Perhaps the monster had impaled the ship on her return, or perhaps it had sunk her to the bottom of the oceans for the sheer joy of spiteful killing…

The water at the edge of the platform exploded then, nearly sending the old man back-first into the quiet sea behind. A small, gloved hand shot out of the inky water and heaved the following girl onto the metal floor. She began to cough, rolling over in an effort to empty the salt water from her airway. 

"Gods, Cora," the old man swore, dropping to his knees. He drew his wooly cloak from over his head and draped it over her shoulders, tilting his head to check her face despite the creaks in his spine.

"Ams…Amses!" the girl gasped, clinging to his sleeve. Between fits of sputtering, she spoke. "It…it has him! It…it came from nowhere…I had him…I took him to the pod…but that monster…it broke it….before we reached the surface….I got out, Amses…I got out, but…"

"Cora, it's a'right," pressed the old man, resisting the urge to embrace the shuddering girl. "You're all right…you're fine…"

"But Amarant!" she snapped, collapsing onto her side. She began to breath more easily, but, not unexpectedly, ready to cry… "I didn't get to him fast enough! If I'd been there just…a little earlier…"

"Little lady, you couldn't help him if you wanted to." Amses brushed the wet hair from her eyes. "Oh gods be thanked that you're alive…"

Before either of the two could continue their sad reflection, a loud, or rather strong rumbling began to cause the platform to tremble violently. The metal rattled against the guiding rails, the water at the platform's edge beginning to fizz and spurt dangerously. Without further warning, a very large hand, attached to a pale, gripping arm, latched onto the slippery edge of the flooring. The serpent's roar could be heard and felt through the vibrating metal, and the creature's slender head and jaws burst out of the surface in the very moment a tired, angry-looking bounty hunter lifted himself feebly over the edge of the platform. 

Luckily, even at his age, Amses kept a cool sense of reflexes that determined the fate of all three the very moment he saw the snake's flashing teeth. A wet scrambling hand went to the surfacing trigger on the platform's console. The monster had sunk, ready to leap and strike again, but not before the platform returned and married with the main deck. 

Below, the serpent raged, tearing with no effect at the metal hull. Screeching a last, defying cry, it dove beneath the rippling blackness and disappeared.

No one was able to react at first, which included the stunned silence that Cora wadded herself in. The sheer sight of him frightened and overjoyed her at once, contrasting the two feeling into utter stupor. Then, snapping out of her dead mono trance, she lunged for the wet, confused Amarant with her arms outstretched.

"Ow," he grunted, prying at the clinging girl. Accepting that his efforts were as effective as coaxing steel to burn, he gave up and concentrated on breathing instead.

"I'll be a rat's uncle," the old man chuckled. Amses shook his graying hair from his eyes. "You Corals are full of surprises."

"You have…no idea," Amarant growled, forcing his weight unto a single arm. It proved less worthy of accepting the burden, and he barely managed to catch himself before falling flat on his face. 

Cora was talking nonstop. "I was just afraid that you were gone and that we were never going to see you again and just imagine the way Sir Zidane would have been if I told him about you and just all of that was so scary, I thought you were dead and that I hadn't saved you after all and it was all so stupid!"

"Cora," said Amses, standing to wrap his gnarled hands about her middle. Surprised, the girl released the bounty hunter and stood on her own two feet with the aid of her guardian, whom smiled at her. "You saved him enough, didn't she, Coral?"

Amarant's glare was about as cold as the hell he'd just experienced. But he did not reply to make the matter worse, and instead, managed to support himself on his senseless limbs with the aid of the bow's railing. 

"I almost let him die!" said Cora, through gritted teeth. She felt like punching herself in the face.

"He was dead anyhow," said the old man, softly. "Don't you agree, Amarant?"

"Whatever," he grumbled, as the feeling slowly seeped back into his arms. "And perfectly happy with it, too."

Cora felt a sting of offense invade part of her silent relief. "Excuse me? You were willing to _die _down there? Well, gee, you should have said so before I jumped at the chance to _save your life_!"

"It's hard enough to speak when you're drowning," Amarant said, clearly struggling to restrain his temper. Cora looked ready enough to box him.

"Missus," Amses warned throatily, placing a hand softly on her shoulder. "Don't go killin' him so soon after rescuing him."

An unforgiving stare was passed between men. Amses grinned merrily. "You should wait at least a few days."

"I didn't ask…for help," the bounty hunter pointed out, risking an attempt to stand freely. He succeeded. Barely.

"How could you?" snapped the eleven-year-old. "I thought you were drowning."

Amses felt a familiar glitter enter his eyes. "Now, children…"

It was rather unexpected when the bounty hunter slowed somewhat, and sunk to one knee. Fighting the surrounding darkness that began to shroud his mind, he gripped at the railing in order to make himself stand again. But his fortune turned away, and he collapsed, still as cool metal that braced him. Cora squealed at the sight of the mangled mess of his one boot, "Holy shi-"

"Missus," grunted the old man, eyes wide in surprise. He hastily knelt beside the unconscious man and almost retched when the putrid smell of deadly toxins hit his lungs. He choked, turning away from the infected hunter and veiling his airways with the front of his shirt. Through the material, he spoke calmly to Cora. "Cora, run and grab somethin' that'll serve as a bandage, and for gods sake get those masks on the wall near the airbridge door."

Mouth agape, she scrambled to oblige. She quickly returned with the requested gas masks, and a roll of medical bandages from the kit she had found hanging just below them. Handing both one mask and the bandages to her guardian, she strapped the other bulky contraption to her face. Amses had already assembled his mask, and was briskly tying the bandages around the feverishly bleeding wound. "Get inside," he said through the nozzle of his mask. "I'm bringin' him in, so you'd better clear the infirmary bed."

Again, the girl ran ahead to carry out his orders. Amses was left with what he had already predicted a hopeless case. But he was never known as a man ready to give anything up. There were matters to attend to now…and if he dawdled, the man that had entranced his friend's daughter would not survive. 


	9. Arrival

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*blink* *blink blink* Uhhhh..... 

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

*runs away from Lady_Artist*

WARNING: Blood. And tragedy. Sort of. Well, good thing I changed the rating! ^_^

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He was in an alley. The buildings on either side towered above them, darkening the corners of the small street with ominous shadows. There was barely enough light to see the path in front of him, and yet he continued to walk straight on, unhindered. He found he had no control over his own actions, or even his thoughts for the most part. It was like a silent show, completely devoid of any sound or feelings...simply darkness, and a destination.

There was a street at the end of the alley. It was brightly-lit, colourful, packed with cheerful, nameless faces, and flowers that were set upon the windowsills. And yet it was far away – black figures passed back and forth across the almost blinding light that marked the end of the narrow back street. No one looked in, no one saw him.

Suddenly, the world around him exploded into life. His darkened surroundings began echoing with the sound of a million voices, melding together into a dull roar that could easily outmatch the turmoil of an ocean. Above it all, he became vaguely aware of a single voice. It was speaking to him – directly to him. The speaker walked beside him. Her stride was what he could only describe as 'bouncy'. When he gathered the iron will to look down, he saw her smiling and chattering non-stop about things he really couldn't understand.

It was Cora.

For some reason, she glowed. She wasn't illuminated by light, but she stood out against the pitch blackness of the alleyway, untouched by the shadows. She didn't seem to notice his silence, nor the bitter coldness of the air. She raved on and on about...something. He tried to listen, and he could hear her speaking but he couldn't hear what she was saying.

The end loomed just in front of them. From shadows into sunlight, they emerged from the alley together and into the sea of voices and warmth. And for the longest eternity, no one looked at them. No one turned a glance towards him. Cora went on talking, apparently excited over something he'd not been able to hear her describe. In a fluid movement, she dashed ahead of him and began to laugh as she charged right into the depths of the crowded street.

His stupor broke. Suddenly, the street, the people, the smells and sounds, the warmth of the sun, the dust and feeling of people brushing past him were all real. He could think, and he could remember Cora's giggling voice as it was drowned out by the onslaught of noble and peasants that compacted together like a horde of killer bees. He could move and react. He could _breathe_.

The crowd pushed and howled from all sides. They melted by him, ignoring him, trying to move on with their business and muttering curses under their breath as they were forced to avoid him. Even though he towered above them, he could not see below their heads and their coats, bag, purses. It all blocked his view. 

Where did she go?

"Cora!" he bellowed above the roaring noise. His voice had little effect against the angry multitude. He tried again. "Cora!"

"What?" came the unexpected reply. Her hand, so cold now, was placed on his arm. Cora stood at his side again, giggling like a maniac. "Ooooh, was the big, bad Amarant afraid I'd get lost?"

No. Wait...yes. Damn it, no! Now he was becoming confused again. Her questions stung as badly as a thousand nails driven into his skull. Of course he didn't care – she'd dragged him into the mess and suddenly he was supposed to look out for her? No way, he'd done that with Lani. He did _not _have anything to do with her, and the sooner she disappeared, the sooner she could...do whatever little girls did. Go to school, become a librarian, meet some guy in a decade or two, get married, buy a house.

In one abrupt moment, the crowd disappeared. It was no longer noon, but dusk, and the light was failing his eyes. The smells were gone, the atmosphere turned bad. The wind whipped by, tossing the shop signs and sending clouds of debris skipping down the street. A chilling rattle struck up – the only sound – as a loose roof shingle complained against the zephyr's efforts to tear it off. 

"Over there! Look!" came a terrified voice of a young man. A lone figure stood at the end of a street, bearing no further than ten yards at distance. Behind him appeared a small party of rugged men -- by the looks of them, bounty hunters. From their midst rose a murmur of greedy intentions.

Cora was still at Amarant's arm, now clutching his hand so tightly that his knuckles began to strain under the pressure. She was trembling. Afraid. It was an odd thing to see, let alone having the girl he was convinced to possess a bravery like no other cling to him like a piece of algae. She didn't look up at him, nor speak.

The crowd of bounty hunters shifted forward nervously. "It's the murderer!" one cried. They responded with a chorus of shouts and yells. "Get the murderer! Kill the murderer!"

"No!" Cora suddenly screamed. She tore herself away from Amarant and began to run towards the group of men in blind terror. "Leave him alone! Don't hurt him! He never did it! I did it! Kill me!"

"N..." The word caught in his throat. The horde of aggressors had begun to move their way. "No..." Amarant attempted to move as well, but he found that he could not. Chains had bound him to the ground – an invisible poison paralysed every possible attempt to follow her.

Cora threw herself at the first man, her glaive unsheathed. The weapon spun easily in her hands, one of the two blades catching the assailant across his head. He collapsed, blood pooling on the ground beneath his fatal wound. The eleven-year-old hesitated. Amarant saw her gaze attached to the horrible mess she had created. She was overwhelmed with fear.

Another man lunged at her, nearly striking her down. She dodged in time for his axe to swing past her head, and she struck him across his middle while he was recovering from the swing. More blood spilling, he too crashed to the ground in a heap.

She was fighting well, but to Amarant it was a blur. There were too many – sooner or later, she would...

Clang. Crash. One more bounty hunter fell, incidentally throwing his sickle to one side as he died. The blades of the weapon cut through the flesh of another man, wounding him, but not mortally. There were six remaining men, and they gathered themselves together like a group of attacking wolves. To the girl, they were a boulder while her glaive was a mere toothpick. She stared at them. They bowled down on her.

Cora dropped her weapon. Everything slowed down. Her weapon had not even struck the ground when a double-edge blade loomed above her head. The events snapped, the painfully torpid seconds reverted back to normal space and time.

The blade came down. More blood spilled.

-|-|-|-|-|-

When he woke, his first realization was simple: he had no idea where he was. Instinctively, the bounty hunter raised his torso from the cool metal surface he lay upon.

And bashed his head against a bar.

Amarant swore, ignorant of the company that might hear him. He brought a hand to the newly-formed bump on his crown. The room he experienced when he snapped his eyes open was a blur to begin with, but gradually the white-and-silver interior came into focus. Vaguely, he was aware of someone giggling in the background. It was only so difficult to guess.

"I can't believe you felt that through that incredibly thick hairdo of yours," Cora commented. She was sitting beside him, a book in her lap and noticeable fatigue in her voice.. 

The bounty hunter lifted an arm to the back of his neck and stretched, depleting the kinks that had developed over a long period of time. The kraken incident was still fresh in his mind, and a dull ache in his mended leg told him all he needed to know about the events that had occurred between now and then.

"Hungry?" the eleven-year-old wanted to know. She glanced at a tray packed with food that had been set on a stand near the 'bed'. "Amses'll warm it up for you if it's too cold."

"Not in the slightest," he informed her, dryly. Any moment, the room would stop spinning. Any moment now...

Traces of his dream still lingered in his mind, and apparently he failed to hide it from his expression. Cora tilted her head to one side, her legs swinging absently-mindedly below the chair. "Um...are you okay?"

Lovely. Fantastic One hundred percent. Never felt better. Fine. Sort of. A little tired. Feeling kind of crappy...Amarant sighed, eyeing his surroundings with obvious disdain. "I feel like shit."

"Well, you smell like it too," the girl informed him with a straight face. Ignoring his sharp glare, she went on. "I mean it. You've been out for like..I dunno, four days, and you _smell_."

"My most sincere apologies," he remarked sarcastically. Cautiously, the bounty hunter placed his operable foot on the floor and stood up. He tested the vitality of his injured leg, placing just a small amount of weight on it. It held, to his surprise, with next to no painful objection. Cora leapt out of her chair at the same time.

"That's a stupid thing to do," she warned him. "If you try to move around, your wound will probably open up again...or something like that."

"Where are we?" he demanded gruffly, disregarding her polite 'presage'. 

"In an airship," she replied curtly, placing her hands on her hips. 

"Cute." Amarant grimaced. "Where the hell are we?"

"In the air!" 

"Brat..." He decided to rest some of his unbalanced weight against the cool metal wall. "Just tell me where we're heading."

Cora looked at him sourly, but said nothing. Inhaling deeply, she clenched her fists at her sides, narrowed her eyes, and stormed across the room and through the door to the cockpit. She yelled something, which was obscured. Amarant pushed himself away from the wall and followed her, kicking himself mentally.

The airship was small, her discovered. It was very well-equipped, which was obvious even thought he knew next to nothing about airships. He doubted it actually belonged to either Cora or her guardian, although he was clueless as to how powerful or rich the eleven-year-old's family was. Everything was clean, from the panels at the technologically-advanced console, to the seats, to the floor. It reminded him of the prisons of the Desert Palace.

Cora was silent where she sat, in front of the panels. She pretended to ignore him, drilling her attention on the blank main screen. Stubbornly, she placed a foot on the 'dashboard' and moved her mobile chair left and right. The sounds were few, ranging from a quiet 'blip-bo-blip' from a flickering green light on the panels, to the squeak of her chair as it spun lazily about in circles.

Amarant found it unnecessary to limp as he made his way to the front of the ship. He side-glanced at her with contempt, and them focussed his eyes on an item resting on the panel board. A picture of an elderly couple smiled back at him, wearing ridiculously bright white coats and goggles that mussed their hair to an unbelievable extent. The bounty hunter grunted. "Distant relations of yours?"

Cora bothered herself to look at the object of his attention, and she snorted. "No," she shot at him. "I don't have a clue who they are, and – you guessed it! I don't give a damn."

"For a kid, you swear too much," he commented idly. "Not to mention your record for stealing--"

Her deathly glare actually cut him off. It was a dangerous look, probably not one to be messed with. Amarant mentally rolled his eyes. "...borrowing other's possessions."

"If you seriously think that I think you care?" Cora pressured him, crossing her arms. "Think again."

".............." He lacked a response. Instead, he turned his head to glance towards a door that attached to the eastern wall, and back. "Where's the old man?"

"Sleeping," she replied, completely monotone. "He had to cast Curaga at least six times to keep you alive. I had to drag him to bed before he passed out. You _should _be thankful."

"I should be dead," said the irritated other. 

"But you're _not_," she pointed out forcefully. She stopped spinning her chair and faced him. "And I'm beginning to wonder if rescuing you was even worth the effort!"

There came a startled snort from the adjoining room. After a moment of weary shuffling noises and the muffled strike of a match against a rough surface, Amses came lumbering out with sleep still tagging him. His lit pipe extruded loosely from his lips, the smoke from its burning end curling skywards and vanishing in all visible gloom... He bore a friendly grin, despite his obvious fatigue. 

"Bravo," coughed the 'old man', lifting a hand to take the unhealthy instrument from between his teeth. "Ye know, no everyone's battled a live kraken and lived te tell about it." 

"Battled, no." The bounty hunter challenged, smirking. "Ran from. And I don't like stories." 

"Hrrmm," Amses growled thoughtfully. He coughed again – attempting to clear his voice. "Bah, right. Where would we be without them? Ye like a few, don't ye?"

Amarant chose not to answer the question, feeling that encouragement was the last thing the slightly eccentric guardian needed at the moment. It felt, in fact, like a kidnapping – only it was his turn around to be hauled from his steady track and thrown to the ground. He felt...desperate, almost. If indeed Lani was in some sort of mortal danger, hence the moogle's broken warning, and should he fail to aid her...

What? If he failed, should he care? Trust, he decided. That must be it – she confided in him as he felt mutual accord. There would be no forgiving himself if she died. It had been _his _idea to let her alone, knowing full well of her incompetence and lack of ability to look out for herself.

"I know a few," Amses concluded. Grunting, he leaned over and placed a hand firmly on the arm of the seat adjacent to Cora's own. With a resounding 'snap' from one of his joints or another, he flopped onto the comfortable padding of the chair. "But I dun' like them. Oh, my bones ache..."

Amarant saw, but didn't heed Cora's explicit 'I-told-you-so' glare. Crossing her arms again, she threw herself back against her seat and spun it about to face the cockpit controls. Her mouth was drawn into a thin line, the red tinge of her ears somewhat dulled but evident enough to keep her present temper known. Without a word to either adult, she punched an ugly green switch on the panel closest to her.

Light flooded the dim room, spilling from the front wall as it was retracted to reveal the view outside. The screen was lifted with it, leaving no sounds or movement but the gently whirring motors. Amarant shielded his face with a large hand, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. But they adjusted, eventually...

Below them was not a sea, or a plateau. The ground was not rocky or barren, or bare as the steppes and canyons of the Forgotten Continent were. They were green, and the air swarmed with ships easily their own size and bigger. Rooftops littered the world below, and towering walls. Looming straight ahead was the unmistakable Lindblum castle, decorated with seagulls that perched and flew. It was morning – the sky was yellow, the sun was just above the eastern horizon, and the ships that flew landed at the lively cargo docks.

He'd been to Lindblum only once...with Zidane, and the others. After the 'queen' had lost her voice, and they had trekked out to the Black Mage village again. It was big – even bigger than Alexandria, and he hated it. It was safe, but it wasn't foolproof. And he figured the next time he saw Baku, the highly-allergic, annoying rabbit man would end up with a Rising Sun blade lodged in his throat.

"Now we realise somethin'," said Amses through pursed lips. "And that's that Linblum ain't yer home away from home. We perceive these things, Mr. Coral."

"How quaint," the bounty hunter pointed out. "Nice as your intentions are, I need to stay away from this place for as long as I can."

Cora forgot her bitterness…almost. "Why?"

Amarant backed up a pace or two, turning away from the otherwise 'breathtaking' scene. "I have somewhere else to be."

"Where?" she demanded, hopping on her feet. "We'll take you there, okay? But…why can't you just hang around a bit? I mean, you still owe me that match!"

A brutal image flashed inside of his mind. Cora, blood, the flash of blades and the wicked grins of the men that would do her harm. He tried to conceal the effect the visions had on him, but he openly jerked his head to one side at the mere thought of her premature fighting abilities. An ability that would most likely get her killed one day, when she deserved a secure future. Damn it, he decided. Why did he care?

"I think," said Amses, rising out of his chair. "That a good inn, a meal…eh, and perhaps a long bathe are in order. What say ye to that?"

A queasy silence drifted between the three of them. "Whatever," stated the irked bounty hunter. He left the room in a wake of both weary indifference and a younger, flared temper.

"Ohhhhh!! He has the _nerve_--" Cora exclaimed, kicking the wall nearest to her. "That's it! I'm giving up! So if you see him, don't bother telling him where I'm going! 'Cause I'm going to see my best friend! And when I'm done that, I'm going to go see Uncle Baku and Marcus! And I'll be _soooo_ glad if I never, ever, ever, ever, _ever _see him again!" 

She balled her fists and stormed out of the cockpit like a constrained, raging bull. Just before she turned around the corner, she faced Amses again through the open doorway. He face was twisted in her evident fury. "_Ever_!"

When she was gone, the lack of sound knocked at the guardian's skull like an inquiring salesman. He could feel the ship tremble below his feet as the auto-pilot system directed them into a docking bay. Poor old Amses felt his simpler set of plans slip right through his fingers and disappear. Now, it seemed, there was much more to deal with than he'd feared would face them.

__

My, he thought sombrely as he set a pace towards the deck of the airship. _One day! She'll learn how to chew more than she's bitten off._

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*sniffles* I miss you all so much! Group hug! *charges her reviewers and gathers them all into a BIG hug* Yahhhh…so tired. *yawns* Okay, I try to update a lot more! Must…think…ideas! ^____^


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